


The Fix

by flashofthefuse



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Mild MOD spoilers, Miss Fisher/MOD cross-over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-03-02 20:01:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18817999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashofthefuse/pseuds/flashofthefuse
Summary: After picking a very public fight and initiating an estrangement, Jack leaves Melbourne without a trace. Phryne determines to get to the bottom of his inexplicable behavior.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a _Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries_ and _Miss Fisher's Modern Mysteries_ cross-over in which I attempt to fix the little problem of Phryne’s disappearance and the utter lack of Jack Robinson.
> 
> Contains mild MOD spoilers but not much more than what is learned in the trailer

**Prologue - Six Months Earlier**

 

Phryne turned the key in the lock. She hadn't wanted to resort to this. She'd been trying to give him some space. Which hadn’t been hard since he was refusing to return her calls and wouldn’t let her in when she showed up unannounced, but after four days of the silent treatment she’d had enough.

She had her own key. She would use it and incur his wrath for the invasion of privacy. Then they could have it out and finally get back to normal.

Immediately upon entry she knew something was wrong.

His scent still hung in the air, familiar and comforting, and the front room was tidy and welcoming. He might have just stepped out back, or be down the hall, but something told her she wouldn’t find him at home, and that he wouldn’t be returning later, no matter how long she waited.

Unwilling to fully believe what she knew in her heart, she walked slowly to his bedroom to find that the closet was empty of all but her own clothing. She was a little surprised to realize that over the years she’d taken up more than her fair share of the space, but then he only had a small rotation of suits and the majority of his wardrobe resided in the chest of drawers.

That too, upon inspection, turned out to be empty. She closed the drawers and leaned heavily on the top of the dresser. The room closed in around her and her eyes began to blur. She had to rush from the suddenly claustrophobic atmosphere in search of fresh air.

Her legs gave way beneath her and she slumped down onto the cement stoop, sucking air violently into her lungs, her entire body shaking. She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, but when she noticed a black car pass the house that she was quite sure it had already passed once before—it had a distinctive dent in the back fender—she decided she should leave before some watchful neighbor called the police. The irony of that thought was not lost on her.

Besides, she was sure that her body’s violent response was an over-reaction. He wasn’t gone for good. He couldn’t be. He’d simply gone somewhere to lick his wounds for a few days. (She wouldn't think about why he'd needed _all_ of his clothes.) Wherever he’d gone, he would soon return, sheepish and embarrassed by his behavior. She’d forgive him and apologize for her part in things and order would be restored to her world.

But two months went by with no word and then she’d seen the notice of auction in the paper and she’d had to face the facts, unbelievable though they were.

She’d tried to let it go then. To think about someone else finding joy in the spot, with it’s bright rooms and easy distance from Edinburgh gardens.

Perhaps some other couple would spend happy evenings walking the grounds and sneaking kisses in the rotunda or sitting side by side listening to the cheers from the nearby footy pitch.

That thought brought to mind a day long ago when she’d sat in the stands with his scarf around her neck. They’d often joked about what might have happened if she’d known just how near to his home they’d been on that day.

She’d found she couldn’t bear even the thought of anyone else occupying the little terrace home, or tending to the small plot he’d carved out in the garden for his roses, and she’d placed a spontaneous call to the selling agent.

It had made sense at the time but looking back it had been a stupid impulse that did nothing but ensure the property sat empty for months, his possessions gathering dust. She’d paid someone to maintain the garden—it was only fair to the neighbors—but no one ever set foot inside the house, not even its new owner.

 

 

**Chapter One**

 

It had taken her the better part of the day to work up her courage and still Phryne’s hand shook as she slipped the key into the lock. She forced it to still. She'd got this far, she couldn't back down now. 

Neighborhoods in Fitzroy were up and coming and even with her relatively short ownership she’d probably turn a profit. Not that she cared. The relevant thing was that it was beyond time to resolve things. Beyond time to say her farewells and finally move on.

The key turned easily and the door swung open at her touch. The miasma of disuse immediately assailed her senses. But for that, it was all very familiar. She knew the space better than her own residence. Not surprising since this place had been as much her home as his for many years.

Where she had felt the need to change with the times and had recently upgraded to her latest house, a modern dwelling she wasn’t entirely comfortable in yet, Jack had remained in the home he’d bought for himself after his divorce. A home he’d willingly shared with her for more than thirty years.

She crossed the room to open a window and let in a bit of fresh air. Their chairs were just where they’d always been, positioned side by side in front of the fireplace grate, but there was a layer of dust on the table between them that never would have been there had he been in residence. She picked up the book he’d been reading before his flight, blowing on the cover to clear it.

She wondered why he hadn’t taken it with him. It wasn’t like Jack to leave a book unfinished, unless he wasn’t enjoying it, and he’d been enjoying this one. He’d wanted her to read it next so that they could discuss it.

But maybe that explained its presence here, she thought, sinking down into the chair closest to the window. Her chair.

He hadn’t taken the book because he no longer wanted to finish it. They wouldn’t be discussing anything ever again and that had stripped the joy from it.

She dropped her head into her hands, an overwhelming wave of sadness rushing over her. This had been a mistake. She shouldn’t have come. She was only reopening wounds barely healed. She should just leave it to the agent or hire someone else to box up all his things. If Jack no longer had use for them, why should she bother about it?

Phryne stood to go but instead of heading for the door, she aimed her steps toward the bedroom. There was one thing she wanted to take with her. Something they’d picked up on their travels when he’d come after her all those years ago.

She was done mourning him, but whatever had caused him to do what he’d done, he had been—was still—the great love of her life. In the end, perhaps they’d fallen out of tune with each other (she still didn’t understand how she’d miss that) but never out of love, and she wouldn’t spend one minute regretting him.

The throw blanket was at the foot of the bed, just as she’d expected it to be. Her heart ached a little to think he hadn’t valued it enough to take it himself. She brushed that aside, deciding instead to believe he’d left it for her to find because he knew how she’d liked to curl it around her as she read on the cooler evenings.

She folded it reverently and held it to her chest taking one last look around the room. Her eyes fell on something curious.

“Now what are you doing here?” she said aloud, “and on my nightstand.”

She walked around and picked up the thick volume, reading the title to make sure it was what she’d thought it to be.

Jack’s Collected Shakespeare. The one his mother had given him. The one that he’d kept in his office at the station until his retirement and which, after that, had always sat on the table beside his pillow.

That he’d left it behind was curious enough, but that it was now on her side of the bed, as though waiting for her, even more so.

It didn’t make sense. Just as the events of that night six months ago hadn’t, no matter how many times she’d gone over it in her head.

They hadn’t even spoken of the possibility in years and suddenly he’d sprung it on her out of the clear blue sky.

At the Firemen and Policemen’s Ball of all places!

He hadn’t seemed overly out of sort before that. In fact, retirement seemed to suit him. In the last few years on the job his position had grown increasingly political and he’d been happy to be away from it all, setting his own schedule and answering to no one but himself.

Maybe she should have read more into the fact that, at the last minute, he hadn’t wanted to go to the ball at all, but they’d gone together for years and she’d been looking forward to it. She’d cajoled him into it in the end, and looking back now, perhaps his reluctance had been a sign that his forced retirement had left him at looser ends than she’d realized.

It was the only explanation she’d been able to muster for his ill-conceived, incredibly ill-timed, and far too public proposal, but she’d never been able to explain away his reaction to her response.

She’d seen Jack angry before and, while it didn’t happen often, when it did it was an impressive thing.

His anger that night was as impressive as usual but in a way she’d never previously experienced.

There’d been a cold resentment in him. Bristling at her joke and calling her selfish. She’d been entirely taken aback and tried to apologize, explaining that she'd only made the flippant response because she hadn’t believed him to be serious.

That had only angered him more and he claimed that she’d never taken him seriously. That for years she’d taken him for granted, expecting him to put aside his own needs for the favor of her company. He said he’d spent the better part of his life doing things her way, trying to make her happy, and that in return she’d made a fool of him.

Nothing she’d said after that could calm him and all of it, the largest and most vicious argument they’d ever had, played out in public. In front of his friends and former colleagues. It was bruising and brutal and by the time he’d stormed out, leaving her to find her own way home, she’d begun to think he’d had some sort of medical emergency. Some fever of the brain that had rendered him utterly unrecognizable to her.

She’d gone after him only to be rebuffed at his door and then cut out completely. He’d uttered not one more word to her before disappearing from her life. After more than thirty happy years.

The thought made her blood boil all over again. She dropped the blanket and the book back on the bed and headed for the door with new resolve.

She was just locking up when she heard someone calling out to her.

“Oh! Miss Fisher! Is it really you?”

“Hello, Mrs. Morris. How are you?” Phryne said, turning to greet Jack’s nosiest neighbor as she came up the walk.

“It is you!” The woman cried. “I’ve been keeping watch but had nearly given up hope that you might ever return! But then, you often did disappear for months at a time,” she sniffed. “Have you been to see Inspector Robinson?”

“Jack doesn’t live here anymore.”

“I know that!” The woman laughed. “I meant have you been to see him in his new home—is he settling in to his new position?”

“New position?” Phryne asked, her heart in her throat. Her brief flash of excitement that Mrs. Morris might provide information about Jack was tempered by irritation that this busybody appeared to know more about his whereabouts than she did.

“Oh my. Then you haven’t seen him? He didn’t tell you about the Major General’s position? I would have thought it was time for that man to slow down rather than take a promotion, but I suppose our loss is the Sydney police’s gain.”

Major General? Any bubble of hope forming was immediately pierced. There was no such position in the police force anywhere in Australia. Apparently Jack had concocted a lie to put Phryne off his trail on the chance she inquired after him with the neighbor lady. The use of the Major General title seemed an unnecessarily cruel joke.

“No,” Phryne said. “I’m afraid we had a bit of a falling out before he left. He never mentioned any promotion.”

“Oh my,” the busybody said, again. “I am sorry! Well that explains this, then,” she said, fumbling in the pocket of her apron and withdrawing an envelope. “I had wondered why he didn’t give it to you himself.”

Phryne took the envelope from her outstretched hand. “It’s not addressed. Are you sure this is for me?”

“It’s for you. In fact I was to give it _only_ to you. He was very definite about that. I did try to get it to you earlier. I watched out for you nearly everyday. Do tell him that when you see him next, won’t you?”

Phryne turned the envelope over in her hands. It was thin. Probably containing no more than a single sheet of paper.

No long, apologetic missive, then. Or explanation of his inexplicable behavior. She thought she should probably wait until she was alone but the neighbor lady was yammering on, making it hard to get away, and she grew impatient. She slid the paper from the envelope.

Written in careful printing that was far neater than his usual scrawl was a string of incomprehensible letters and numbers:

 

> A&C A II S II LN241-249

It made no sense at all until she realized that the letters ‘I’ were meant to be read as roman numerals. Then the pieces fell into place. He was pointing her to a longer message that he wanted to keep private and the tall tale to the neighbor, which she’d taken as salt in a wound, had actually been another clue.

“Why, you’ve gone white as a sheet, dear!” Mrs. Morris exclaimed. “Come across the street and let me make you some tea.”

“No. Thank you. I’m fine. Some other time perhaps. I really should be going and have just realized I’ve left something inside that I need. Thank you for this,” Phryne said, waving the note. She backed her way into the house once more, trying to close the door on Mrs. Morris’s craning neck.

“Well, I won’t keep you,” the woman sniffed, finally turning away.

“Mrs. Morris! Wait!” Phryne called, pulling the door open again as a thought occurred. “You said Jack was clear that this letter should come only to me. Has anyone else come looking for it? Or for Jack?”

“No. Not as such,” the neighbor said, vaguely.

“Not as such?” Phryne prompted.

“A man did come by asking questions. After the house was listed for sale in the papers,” Mrs. Morris said. “That was a curious thing. One day the home is being listed for auction and the next it’s not. Sold, we were told, but then no one ever moved in. Did the Inspector change his mind and take it off the market after all?”

“Something like that,” Phryne said, impatiently. “What about this man, Mrs. Morris? The one that came asking questions?”

“Oh, yes, well, I assumed he was inquiring about the property but he did seem unusually interested in the inspector and he was a bit pushy.”

“Really?” Phryne leaned in, looking intrigued to encourage the gossip.

“Oh, yes. Asked all sorts of questions. Did I know why the owner was selling. Had he been a decent neighbor. Did he take good care of his property. That sort of thing.

“I told him the inspector had been fastidious in maintenance and neat as a pin. I cleaned for him on occasion, you know, and it was the easiest work I ever had! I said he was a wonderful neighbor and would be sorely missed. We all felt safe knowing he was nearby, you know?”

“I do know,” Phryne said, swallowing down the lump in her throat. This was getting her nothing but more heartache and so far the neighbor’s information hardly seemed worth it. “You said the man was pushy. Did his questions take a turn?”

“They did. To a point where I began to feel uncomfortable! When I mentioned that I’d cleaned for the inspector he asked if I still had a key to the property and if I could let him inside. He said he was very interested in the house and wanted to get a look before it opened up for auction. He hoped to beat out any competition.”

“That’s cheeky!”

“Isn’t it?” Mrs. Morris said. “Imagine thinking I would let a perfect stranger into the inspector’s home without his permission! Well, I told him that even if I were able, I’d do no such thing! I no longer had a key anyway. Inspector Robinson retrieved it when he came by to give me that letter for you.”

“When was this?”

“The night he left town, I presume. He apologized for the late hour and he had a traveling case with him. I never saw him again after that.”

“Did you ever see the man with all the questions again?”

“Now that you mention it, I did! He came by on the day the house was supposed to be shown before auction but of course by then it was off the market again. He rapped on my door to ask why it had been pulled and I told him I had no idea. He had the nerve to keep pestering me, asking if the owner had changed his mind and returned. I told him I hadn’t seen or heard from the previous owner since the night he left town. I referred him to the selling agent for any more information regarding the property and ordered him off my front step,” Mrs. Morris said, puffing up with indignation. “When he went across the street and started banging on the inspector’s door I hollered that if he didn’t leave the property I would call the police.”

“Well done, Mrs. Morris,” Phryne said. “That’s the way to handle a nosy parker!”

Mrs. Morris smiled, pleased by the affirmation. “Well, I’m just glad he wasn’t able to get his hands on that lovely house! Imagine having such a man for a neighbor! I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him! I made sure he left. Stood right there on my walk until he got in his car and drove away.”

“Did you happen to notice what type of car he was driving?”

“I don’t know one from the next but I do remember that it was black and the back fender was crumpled.”

Phryne’s heart began to race. It had to be the same car she’d seen pass by twice on the day she’d discovered Jack gone, and a possible lead as to why he’d left in such a hurry.

Phryne wasn’t going to get anything more from the neighbor and was impatient to get back in the house. She politely extricated herself from the conversation, promising to come for tea one day soon and to give Mrs. Morris’ regards to the inspector when she next saw him.

She knew she’d never keep the former promise but hoped very much to honor the latter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne finds Jack's message.

Phryne returned to the bedroom and picked up Jack’s **Complete Shakespeare.** It wasn’t hard to find the proper page. He’d marked it with a notecard. She quickly skimmed down to the lines he’d referenced.

 

 

> **MAECENAS**  
>  _“Now Antony must leave her utterly”_
> 
> **ENOBARBUS**  
>  _“Never. He will not._  
>  _Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety. Other women cloy the appetites they feed, but she makes hungry where most she satisfies.”_
> 
>  

He'd recited a portion of this to her before, very early in their acquaintance. It had been just one revealing moment in the slow plumbing of his depths that followed.

He had apparently been struck by how prescient the words had turned out to be and employed them once more to tell her that his love for her was without end, regardless of proximity.

The thing is, that had never been in doubt. She already knew that he loved her! What she didn’t know was why he’d left. And she’d never really believed it was because of her rejection of his proposal—which, technically, had not been a rejection at all. For that matter, it would seem the proposal hadn’t actually been a sincere one to begin with. The entire thing, including his angry response to her teasing reply, had been a deliberate bit of stagecraft designed to orchestrate a very public break.

That much was now clear, but the reasons for his actions were not, and if these few lines from the Bard were all the explanation he planned to provide her, it was woefully inadequate.

She tried to piece together what little she could with the information she now had.

He hadn’t wanted to leave. The Shakespeare quote said ‘must leave her’, meaning Jack felt he had no other choice.

Then there was the car that had driven past his house twice on the day she had last visited. There could be more than one black car in Melbourne with a dented fender but it was highly likely the same man had approached Mrs. Morris and tried to gain access to Jack’s home.

Jack had been being watched, and whoever was watching thought there was something in his home worth trying to obtain by less than scrupulous means. Phryne was a little surprised they’d never broken in but perhaps once they were assured he’d left town for good, whatever he’d been pursuing ceased to be a problem.

It didn’t take much to hit upon the subject of Jack’s pursuit and Phryne considered that his apparent contentment in retirement had not been all it appeared. She should have realized that leaving the force would not take the detective out of him.

They’d both been aware of some suspicious dealings within the ranks of the Victoria Police. Jack had tried to raise the alarm while still in his position but had been shut down. He must have continued to dig into it on his own and found something that put him in the wrong people’s crosshairs.

“Oh, my love,” she sighed. “What did you get yourself into? And why didn’t you trust me with it?”

It was only then that she noticed the writing on the card he’d used for a bookmark.

P. Fisher  
P.O. Box 475  
Fitzroy North LPO  
Vic 3068

Phryne didn’t have a post office box in Fitzroy.

She rushed to the kitchen, to that one drawer everyone had, the one where all manner of miscellany got dumped.

Even Jack’s junk drawer was neater than most but it still took some time to find the key. He’d tucked it into the hollow of a ball of string. She plucked it out to examine it. Engraved on both sides was the number 475.

Phryne wanted to scream.

He’d laid it all out for her to find and given her ample time to find it! The house hadn’t gone up for sale until he’d been gone two months. What if she had let it sell? The book and all of his clues would have been lost!

She’d wasted so much time telling herself that all things come to an end, and that she was fine without him, while all the while he'd been dropping breadcrumbs for her follow. Surely at the end of this path she’d find the reason for all of this. There may even be a clue to his whereabouts in that post office box!

Some detective she’d turned out to be.

He could be somewhere right now worrying about how late she was in arriving, or worse yet, thinking she’d decided ‘good riddance to bad rubbish’ or something else unthinkably horrible.

Phryne checked the time. She’d need to hurry to make it to the post office before closing. Typically, Jack had chosen one close to his home. He'd have known she’d be impatient and tried to avoid having her speed recklessly across town. 

It took her only minutes to arrive and find the box. The parcel inside was smaller than she’d expected, and it took all her self-control not to open it immediately, but someone had been watching Jack, and he’d gone to great lengths to keep whatever was in the parcel safe from them. It would be better, she decided, to wait until she was in the privacy of her home.

 

 

 **The parcel** contained a tiny canister and a one page letter. Inside the canister there was a roll of microfiche. She went to find her magnifying glass and unspooled the film. Phryne wasn’t one to object to titillating material but what she looked at now was more the stuff of nightmare than erotic dreams.

She turned to the letter.

 

 

 

> _My clever darling,_
> 
> _You found it. I knew you would. And I also know that before you opened this letter you looked at the contents of the canister._
> 
> _You recognize the man in the film, I’m sure. And the woman, and the location. The man is the important part, but I’ll get to that later._
> 
> _First, let me apologize, although I’m not sure I can adequately do so to be absolved of my behavior. I hurt you and humiliated you. I live with that shame every minute of every day and am more sorry than I can possibly express. For so many things, my love._
> 
> _I won’t try to defend myself by saying I had no choice. Perhaps there was another way, but I could not find one in the brief space of time I had left and I see no point in looking for that alternative now. What’s done, is done._
> 
> _I know what you are thinking but I couldn’t tell you anything. I got in over my depth, (perhaps there is good reason for that mandatory retirement age). Enlisting you would only have put you in more danger._
> 
> _And don’t bother ranting about my taking the decision for your safety out of your hands, I’ve heard it before. I did not do so lightly. I did, however, do it selfishly. That much I will acknowledge._
> 
> _You see, I might be ready to die for my convictions, Phryne, but I am not ready for you to die for my mistakes, or for some misguided attempt to avenge me._
> 
> _The people I’ve angered are not to be underestimated. They would do more than hurt you physically. Taking your life would be the last of their steps. First they would take everything else from you. All that you have worked so hard to earn through the years. Then, if that was not enough to stop you from coming after them, (and we both know it wouldn’t be) they would see you six feet in the ground._
> 
> _For this reason, my letter will not be as informative as I know you’d like it to be. Even now I will not tell you what brought me to my desperate actions. You can’t know because you would only pick up where I left off and find yourself in the same straits and I won’t allow it._
> 
> _I can only imagine your rage at those last four words._
> 
> _Honestly, it doesn’t feel good to write them and I must admit this is the only moment I’m feeling glad that I will be far away when you read them._
> 
> _Now that I’ve overstepped my bounds, I’m going to appeal to that open and generous heart of yours, and ask a favor:_ _Do not reveal that you have that bit of film. Put the microfiche in a safe place where only you can find it._
> 
> _My hope is that with me out of your life you will be left alone, but if they get it into their heads that you know something, you could still be in danger._
> 
> _That film is your insurance. The man in it is a small fish, really, but he is important for one reason. If they want to keep you in your place they will employ him. At least in the beginning._
> 
> _If he becomes more of a thorn in your side than he already is, you should hint that this evidence is in your possession, but keep him guessing. His uncertainty will keep you safe._
> 
> _Our photogenic friend is more of an opportunist than anything else. He keeps himself on the periphery and plays all sides. He can be counted on to do what is in his own best interest. If he fears you have means to upset his careful balancing act he will do what he can to protect it, and by extension, you._
> 
> _I know I’ve already asked a lot of you while providing very little information but I’m afraid I must ask still more. One final request, if you’d be so kind—don’t try to follow in my footsteps._
> 
> _As I’ve said, they will be watching you. If you start asking the wrong questions then all I’ve done will be for nought._
> 
> _I never wanted to be without you, but if I must, I will be content in knowing that I’ve had more time with you than I should rightfully have been allowed._
> 
> _Should you ever need me, my darling, you will find me in your heart._
> 
> _You’ve made me, always, the happiest of men. I hope I have been able to make you even half as happy._
> 
> _Thank you, Phryne._
> 
> _I love you._
> 
> _Your Jack_

 

Phryne crumpled the paper in her fist, blinking away tears. _What an obstinate, infuriating man!_ She was going to have quite a large piece of her mind to give him when she caught him up. How dare he slink away in the night and then proclaim it to be for her own good!

Let whoever he’d enraged try to ruin her. They could destroy her business, her reputation, even take her life and it would have been easier than this!

Didn’t he understand that by leaving he was the one taking from her the only thing she wasn’t willing to be without? He’d said he’d hurt and humiliated her. That didn’t even begin to describe it! He’d torn her heart from her chest.

If he’d stopped loving her, or a natural death had separated them, she would accept it as the cost of living, and loving, but this? This she would never accept.

Phryne paced the room trying to settle her emotions enough to think clearly. She loved her life, her friends, and her work. She was even growing fond of her new home, with its clean and modern lines, but if she had to give it all up today to be with him she knew she would. How could he not know that?

Did he really think he was doing what she would want by leaving without her? He couldn’t possibly believe that he came so far down on her list of priorities after all these years! She was finding it hard to be anything but incredibly angry with him.

She smoothed the letter out and read it again. It was clear he knew he’d made a mistake in the way he’d handled things but he was not nearly as contrite as he should be. He was far too stubborn and proud for that!

He did say that he'd had little time to come up with a plan. And had he stayed, it seemed likely she’d have been planning his funeral before too long. To have had that happen, and only later find out why, would have been even more unbearable.

Perhaps this was something she could grasp onto as an olive branch.

His decision to flee had kept him alive. Whatever other consequences had followed, he’d believed he was doing what was in the best interest of them both. She decided that she would choose to believe this too. Not talking to her beforehand, and giving her the chance to leave with him, had been a mistake. But even the best of men could make a mistake and Jack had made very few through the years.

She couldn’t undo the past, but she could control what happened next.

She had some idea of what he’d been working on that led to all of this. They’d both been aware that corruption had once again crept into the ranks of the Victoria Police. She should have known he could not let that stand and would continue to try and root it out even after he’d left the force.

She was also unsurprised that he’d kept her out of it. They’d begun working to separate their cases some time ago in preparation for his retirement.

With his impending departure, she’d had to forge other connections within the police department to continue in her work as a detective. He wouldn’t have wanted to damage those fragile ties by getting her involved in investigating the very people whose trust she needed.

But, he’d have looped her in eventually, he’d just run out of time. Something had happened to upend everything and convinced him his only choice was to run. It didn’t take any special intelligence to know that a threat serious enough to make Jack Robinson run would have also been directed at her, and it had to have been convincing and imminent.

The very public break up he’d manufactured, and her apparent easy acceptance of his disappearance, had probably saved her life.

She was thankful now for her decision to keep her identity out of the public record when she’d purchased his home. She’d done it only to prevent him from knowing but she’d unwittingly been protecting herself as well. Her inability to go back there had also served her well. What had been crippling grief and cowardice looked to the world like indifference and moving on from a failed relationship.

Between the two of them they’d managed to do an excellent job of shielding her from danger. After all these years they were still better together, even when they weren’t trying to be.

Phryne rolled the microfiche tight and looked around for a good hiding place. Her eyes fell upon the little figurine. She remembered the day he’d given it to her.

They’d been in Cairo, making their way home. She’d headed back to the hotel for a nap while he’d continued his exploration of the city—the man was an indefatigable tourist. He always said he might never see a place again and had to make the most of his time.

He’d told her it was the hair that had caught his eye. At the time Phryne’s was longer than she’d kept it when in Melbourne but she’d maintained the blunt fringe. She’d been pleased, in a silly sort of way, that he would look at the image of a goddess and see her.

But little figurines of this nature were a dime a dozen on the streets of Cairo. What had made this one worth purchasing had been the secret compartment hidden in its base. He said that when he saw that he couldn’t pass it by.

The roll of microfiche slipped neatly inside. And it was perfect in another way too because Phryne had more in common with the subject of the figurine than a hairstyle.

The Goddess Isis had stopped at nothing to be reunited with her beloved.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne begins her search for Jack. She makes some discoveries that concern her and runs into an adversary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more mild MOD spoilers but nothing past episode 1. Future references to anything in the MOD universe are outside of MOD canon and made up entirely for the purposes of this fic.

Phryne would find him, whether he wanted her to or not. It was outrageous that he should have been forced to leave in the first place!

There were few who could claim to have done more for the city than Jack Robinson. He’d told her on the day they met that he planned to make Melbourne a less dangerous town and he’d dedicated the best years of his life to doing just that.

He didn’t have to. Through the years there’d been plenty of opportunities to take an easier path. He’d turned down promotions that would have made his days calmer and safer, but that would have taken him off of the front lines, and away from the people he’d sworn to protect.

He’d also been approached more than once by people that wanted him to run for a government position. He’d considered it, wondering if it might be a way bring about more substantial and rapid change than his position as a Detective Inspector allowed, but in the end it seemed the job was less about the people and more about the politics, and that did not appeal to him at all.

He’d remained where he felt his talents would best serve without making him crazy, and if that meant helping fewer people at least it would be in a more hands-on and personally satisfying way.

He’d stayed where he was. He’d followed the rules, respected the hierarchy (for the most part) and done more than he was asked. He’d even played a large part in rooting out corruption in the force once before—at great professional and personal cost.

That earlier experience may have been a part of why he’d been unable to ignore it this time around. He could have coasted through those last years before reaching the mandatory retirement age. He could have looked the other way and, once out the door, left it to someone else to clean up.

She almost wished he had but then he wouldn’t be the man she’d known all these years. He wouldn’t be the man she loved. The man she had no intention of going into her twilight years without.

She would find him, bring him home and together they would neutralize whatever the threat was that had made him run.

The first step was picking up his trail and how hard could that be? But for her wounded pride she’d have likely found him already.

 

 **Discovering Jack’s** whereabouts proved harder than she’d imagined. She spoke with friends, former colleagues, and in desperation, even the clerk at the neighborhood grocery with whom he sometimes discussed the art of growing roses. No one had had any inkling he’d been planning to leave town and no one had the first clue where he’d gone.

Next she tried the administrative halls of the Victoria Police. Jack received a monthly pension earned through his years of service. They’d have to be sending the cheque somewhere and she figured she could use her cunning and wiles to finagle the address out of some unsuspecting clerk.

She did manage to get some information, but it wasn’t what she sought and only served to alarm her more than anything she’d learned to-date.

Jack wasn’t receiving his pension cheques. Shortly after he’d left town an attorney had contacted the department on Jack’s behalf. He’d authorized his remaining pension be donated to the Victoria Authority Widow’s and Orphan’s fund in support of the families of fallen officers of the Victoria Police.

She made her way outside the building and sat heavily on a bench trying to wrap her head around this news.

Jack’s act of generosity didn’t shock Phryne but that pension was his only source of income since his retirement. The only reason she could think that he would give it up was the very reason she was currently trying to take advantage of its existence—its use in helping to locate him.

He wasn’t hiding this thoroughly from her, of that she was sure. This revelation meant that Jack was hiding from someone else. Someone he feared might continue to pursue him and had the power to do it.

There was only one organization, run by one very powerful and ruthless man, that Jack Robinson would take a threat from this seriously.

Because of his position in government this man managed to operate in the public eye with impunity. He was charismatic and commanded a sycophantic loyalty from his followers. He had a cadre of crooked lawyers and fixers that did his bidding by paying off those that might threaten his public image and tying up in court anyone desperate enough to challenge his unscrupulous business practices. She wasn’t even surprised to think that members of the police might be in his pocket.

There were rumours of a darker side to his organization too. Stories of people that had crossed the wrong line and had terrible tragedies befall them. Jack must have begun to believe in these rumours.

In his letter Jack had said that his enemies would take everything from her long before they resorted to anything as easy as taking her life. If the stories were true, the future Jack saw for her was one in which she was stripped of everything she had ever worked for, or cared about, simply because she was important to him. And if a time came when they wanted her dead, there would be no hesitation.

If he’d continued with his investigation he may have had to watch as they destroyed her, possibly going so far as to force him to witness her death, before they turned their attentions to him.

He’d seen no way out but to manufacture a highly public rift with her and disappear. But very few people could disappear and leave no trace. And no one knew Jack Robinson better than she did. If he’d slipped up anywhere, left even the smallest of clues, she would find it and she wouldn’t stop until she did.

She’d have to be careful, though. Because if she’d had any doubt about Jack's theory that she was being watched, and by whom, she was about to be convinced he was right.

“Well, if it isn’t the Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher.”

Phryne did not rise. She shielded her eyes from the sun to look up at the man standing before her.

“Good afternoon, Chief Inspector.” Her smile was more a grimace as the title caught on her tongue. That this lout should have been elevated to Jack’s former position left a foul taste in her mouth.

“I haven’t seen you in awhile. In fact, not since the Fireman and Policeman’s ball,” he said, with a smirk. “I wonder what brings you here, today?”

“Just passing and thought I’d sit a moment in the sunlight. This is a public bench, after all,” Phryne said.

“Of course it is,” he said. “I’m glad to run into you. I’ve been wanting to congratulate you on managing to do what no one else could.”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about. I’ve done many things no one else could,” she replied, breezily.

“Well this was a truly amazing feat. You’ve no idea how many people over the years have tried to run Jack Robinson out of town.”

Phryne sucked in a breath, struck dumb.

“Poor sap. Everyone else could see it coming,” Sparrow continued, laughing. “After all, once he was done on the force what good was he to you? But you had him well and truly blinkered. I would’ve felt bad for the man but it was the best entertainment they’ve ever had at one of those stuffy things. Humiliated in front of his own men and half of Melbourne. I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed a man brought so low and I deal with desperate criminals on a daily basis.”

“You are a vile man,” Phryne growled, “and not fit to sit at Jack Robinson’s feet much less in his chair.”

“Oh, I replaced that thing ages ago. Not enough lumbar support,” he said. “And, I’ll agree that Robinson was a good cop back in the olden days, or at least that’s the reputation he had, but you know what his problem was?”

“Enlighten me,” Phryne said.

“He wasn’t able to change with the times. Couldn’t see which way the wind was blowing.”

“Didn’t know what side his bread was buttered on?” Phryne interjected, sarcastically. “As long as we’re trafficking in cliches, here’s one for you, Chief Inspector: The more things change, the more they stay the same.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“There was a Madame Lyon back in the olden days too. I knew her well. And, like her current incarnation, she also liked to keep souvenirs from her clientele.”

“We seem to have veered off topic. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Weren’t we talking about the olden days?” She asked innocently, “I was just pointing out that there were crooked cops back then too. You may have gotten your hands on Jack’s office and title but only because you bought it through questionable allegiances and backdoor dealings. You’re as crooked as they come, Sparrow. And your days are numbered.”

He flashed a teeth baring grin.

“Fair warning, Missy—I’m nowhere near as accommodating as your previous boy-toy. More talk like that and you’ll find it very hard to keep playing at that little detecting business of yours.”

“Is that a threat?”

“A warning. Like I said.”

“I see. Well, listen carefully, because this _is_ a threat,” Phryne said. “Cross me and the world will learn some things about your patronage of a certain, questionably legal, establishment that I’m quite sure you’d rather remained private.”

“Threatening an officer of the law? You’re on thin ice, Fisher.”

She stood. In her heels she could easily look him directly in the eye.

“I’ll take thin ice over the compromised position you’re in. Don’t make me splash those pictures all over the press. It would be horrible for people to have to see them. Think of the children.”

His eyes reduced to angry slits but she could still see the doubt and fear in them. “You’re bluffing.”

“Possibly,” she smiled, prettily. “Go ahead and call me on it. I’d love that. Good day, Chief Inspector.”

She was shaking as she walked away. She’d probably played her hand too soon. She’d been hoping to learn more about what Jack had uncovered before appearing on Chief Inspector Sparrow’s radar. She knew there were a few colleagues Jack had still been in contact with and might have been assisting him in obtaining information, but there was no way Sparrow was letting her anywhere near the station now.

Maybe that was for the best. At least for the time being. As of now she’d only shaken the cage of a small rat but he had the ability to raise a more serious alarm if she pushed her luck.

Her quick and vehement defense of Jack hadn’t made her look like a woman who was indifferent to him and she’d probably unraveled a good bit of the yarn about their split that he’d risked so much to spin.

She had to be more careful than this. Move more slowly and keep better control of her temper. When she found out where Jack was, and went after him, the last she thing wanted was for thier enemies to follow.

 

 **Her belief** that once she set her mind to it, she would locate Jack quickly turned out to be hubris. He’d not made it easy.

He had no remaining family and if he’d been willing to completely cut ties with her, there would be no other friend he would have remained in touch with—no one he might have felt the need to contact just to say he was safe. He’d pulled up roots as cleanly as if he’d never set them down.

Phryne had only one lead to follow. One blind hope.

Her discovery that Jack had forfeited his only regular source of income just before he’d gone on the lam brought another one of his actions into focus for her: The sale of his home.

He owned it outright and it was his largest asset. The value had risen substantially through the years and, if he was careful, the proceeds from its sale would provide enough money for him to live off the rest of his life. But, in order to do that, he’d have to get his hands on it, and that presented the same problem his pension had. All one needed to do was follow the money to find him.

The one advantage the house money had over the pension was that, rather than monthly, the payment would come in one lump sum. He could have arranged for it to be deposited in a bank somewhere and then move it again the next day. He might have kept it bouncing from bank to bank for weeks to obscure his trail before finally settling it somewhere more permanently. There were banks whose entire reputation hung on their discretion and the secure confidentiality with which they held their customer’s information.

That’s the kind of bank Jack would put his windfall in for the long term. It was also the type of bank that not even she could work her wiles on.

She planned to follow the money as far as she could. After that, she’d just have to rely on the fact that there was no one on earth that knew him better than she and hope that knowledge would be enough to lead her the rest of the way.

She settled on a story and put in a call to the agent that had handled Jack’s half of the transaction.

She convinced him to meet with her at the end of the day knowing she could be more convincing face to face than over the phone. Next, she did a bit of research and learned the agent was a gentleman near to her own age, rather recently divorced, and reportedly enjoying his new freedom.

She arrived at his office in a thoroughly modern dress with a very short hemline. Her style these days ran more to well-cut trousers and a silk blouse, but she still had the legs to pull it off and she sat down, crossing them in a manner that allowed the hemline to ride up a few inches more before beginning to spin her tale.

She told her story in a folksy and entertaining manner, providing more detail than was strictly necessary and piling on as much charm as she could. She told him there’d been an issue with the sink in the bath of her new home backing up with some regularity.

“Not being a particularly handy sort of woman, I begged assistance from the nice gentleman next door for help,” she said, batting her eyes innocently. “He removed some kind of pipe and in addition to a large clog, he found this.”

Phryne pulled an exquisite ruby ring from her bag. It had come from her own jewelry box and not Jack’s perfectly maintained pipes, but the man needn’t know that.

“It’s lovely,” the man said.

“Isn’t it? I thought it looked expensive,” she said. “I have an eye for these things. So I took it to my jeweler for an appraisal and it turned out I was right. It’s a valuable piece.”

“And you’re wondering what your rights are,” the man said, jumping to his own conclusion. “I assure you, as the new owner of the home, you are legally entitled to anything you find. The ring is yours to keep.”

“Oh! But I couldn’t possibly! The jeweler says it is quite old. I think it must be an heirloom. I can’t keep it! That would be no better than stealing, regardless of what the law might say. I was hoping you could help me find the home’s previous owner, or perhaps a relative if the owner is deceased? I’d like to try to return it.”

“That’s very kind of you but I’m not sure I can help you. The previous owner is still living, or, at least he was several months ago when I last heard from him, but I have no idea how to find him.”

“Surely you had to contact him at the time of sale?”

“Of course, but once our business dealings were done, I’ve had no more contact with him. I never even met the man in person. All our business was handled over the phone or by post.”

“Over the phone? Then you have a number for him?”

“I do,” he said, leaning over his desk to rifle though a rolodesk. Phryne tried to temper her hope. It wasn’t likely to be this easy.

“It’s an answering service,” he said, writing the number on a small card for her. “Mr. Robinson had a job overseas that kept him constantly on the move. He was selling up because he wouldn’t be returning to Melbourne for quite some time. I would leave a message for him with his service and he would call me back as soon as he was able.”

“Oh,” Phryne said, sitting back crestfallen. The number would be worthless. Jack would have already cut ties with the service. “I’d really prefer to reach him directly. My name would mean nothing to him. He would have no reason to call me back. And, I worry about leaving any information about the ring with a stranger. It’s extremely valuable and that answering service might have some unscrupulous employees.”

“You mean you think they might try to get their hands on it for themselves?”

“What’s to stop them? I don’t know the man and wouldn’t recognize his voice. Anyone could call me back and ask me to send it anywhere! How will I know I’m getting it into the right hands?”

“I see,” the man said, eyeing the ring sitting on the desk between them with a new glimmer in his eyes. “If it’s your unfamiliarity with my client that concerns you, perhaps I could make the call and negotiate the rings return for you?”

“That’s kind of you, and I mean no offense, but, I don’t really know you either.” She smiled at him, looking him over in a way that said she lamented the fact and would like to rectify it.

“I suppose that’s true,” he said, definitely not taking offense in the hope of maintaining her interest. “I’m afraid I can’t think of any other way to help you, but maybe we could go somewhere quiet and put our heads together over a drink?”

“That sounds lovely, but unfortunately I haven’t time today. Tomorrow, perhaps? Then I’d have the entire evening free.” She said, dangling the hint of an overnight invitation.

They made arrangements to meet. Arrangements that, if this next ploy worked, she planned to cancel. She stood to go but turned back just before reaching the door.

“I’ve just had a thought!” She said, eagerly, “How did you get the money from the sale of the house to him?”

For her own purposes, Phryne was pleased with how forthcoming the man was, but his loose lips concerned her for Jack’s sake. If she’d been able to get the information from him this quickly it wouldn’t be much harder for anyone else to do the same.

Hopefully, Jack had thought of this and had moved the money as quickly as possible but the location he’d chosen to receive the funds sparked a glimmer of hope in her breast. He might have been trying to hide from his enemies but he wasn’t trying very hard to hide from her. She was now convinced that he wouldn’t mind in the least if she found him.

He might even be hoping she would.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armed with new information and a hunch about Jack's whereabouts, Phryne sets out in search of him.

Phryne made a stop at the bank before heading towards home. She’d made a decision to follow her hunch and go after Jack immediately and she would need to have more than the usual amount of cash on hand to make the trip.

As she pulled into her drive a patrol car passed along the street behind her. The third she’d seen since leaving the real estate agent’s office. It could be coincidence but she didn’t think so and she’d long ago learned not to ignore her gut instincts.

She cursed herself for having shown so much of her hand to Sparrow earlier.

She shouldn’t have been so quick to anger. She shouldn’t have leapt to Jack’s defense, and she shouldn’t have even hinted at the incriminating evidence she now held. That had been stupid and short-sighted. She’d shot up a red flare at a time when she most needed to remain under wraps. She was going to have to get a better handle on her emotions.

She locked the door behind her and ran up the stairs. After calling the airfield and arranging to have her plane prepped for the morning flight, she turned her attention to packing her bags.

Ten minutes later there was a pile of clothing on the bed and nothing in her case besides her pearl-handled revolver and a jewelry box containing a few pieces she refused to leave behind. She had no idea how to pack. If Jack had remained where she believed he’d gone first then she wouldn’t need much. She’d find him quickly and convince him to come home and the entire trip would take mere days. If he’d already moved on the story was different and she had no idea how long she might be away or what kind climates she’d encounter.

She decided to take an optimistic approach and pack for the shorter trip. She could always pick up anything else she might need along the way if necessary. There was only one thing left to do before heading to bed for what she imagined would be a restless night’s sleep.

“This trip is rather sudden,” Birdie said. Phryne could hear the concern in her friend’s voice over the phone line.

“I received the invitation ages ago but only just decided to accept,” Phryne said. “They’re old friends from England and it’s rare that they’re in the neighborhood.”

“Papua New Guinea is the neighborhood?”

Phryne could see her friend's raised eyebrow and wry smile in her minds eyes. “It is when you have your own airplane,” she replied, cheekily.

Birdie laughed. “Will you be gone long?”

“Not sure,” Phryne said. “I’ve been feeling restless lately. I may take a bit of extra time away.”

Phryne was treading a fine line trying to give her friend enough information to keep her from worrying without revealing anything that might make Birdie too curious. The last thing she wanted was to drag anyone else into this mess. For a moment she found herself in Jack’s shoes and better understood his decision to keep her in the dark.

“Where will you go?” Birdie asked.

“Wherever my whim takes me!”

“Why so vague, Phryne?  What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing!” Phryne said, in as unconcerned a manner as she could muster. “You know me, Birdie! Sometimes I just get the itch for a little change of scenery.”

“Your wanderlust is the stuff of legends,” Birdie said. “I just hope this really is a little holiday and not you not running away from something.”

“What would I be running away from?”

“You tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell!”

“How long have we known each other, Phryne? Do you think I haven’t noticed how out of sorts you’ve been recently?”

“I’ll admit I’ve been a bit out of sorts, Birdie. But, I’m of the mind that it’s gone on long enough. I’m trying to set myself right again and I believe this getaway will help.”  _There_ , Phryne thought. She couldn’t get much closer to the truth than that!

Birdie sighed. “Alright, darling. Take care of yourself, have a wonderful time, and keep in touch.”

“I’ll be back before you know I’m gone!”

 

 **Less than** twenty-four hours after hanging up from Birdie, Phryne touched down in Port Moresby. It wasn’t her final stop. She stayed just long enough to stretch her legs and refuel before pushing on to her final destination, which was further inland and far more remote.

When the sudden squall kicked up she thought it may have been unwise to have flown on so close to sunset. But the storm could have come at anytime and her sturdy plane would’ve handled it perfectly well if not for the lightning strike. She had come down a little short of her goal and a lot harder than she’d have liked.

Once the adrenaline wore off, and her heart was beating normally again, she assessed her situation and was relieved to find she’d come through relatively unscathed. One wrist was a bit sore but nothing was broken and when she hopped down from the cockpit, her legs, though still shaky, held her weight satisfactorily.

Sadly, her plane was not equally unscathed. There hadn’t been much of a clearing to set down in and the propeller had been severely damaged by the underbrush. One wing had dipped into the ground and sustained damage as well. She couldn’t get a good look at the landing gear but thankfully the fuel tank appeared intact. Still, even if there’d been room to attempt a take-off, the plane would not fly in its current condition. It may never fly again.

It really was unfortunate. She estimated she’d been only ten minutes from her destination but ten minutes in the air would equate to hours on foot and she wasn’t entirely sure she’d be able to find her way in broad daylight much less the approaching dark.

Her best course of action was to climb back inside the mostly unaffected cockpit and await the morning.

 

 **As was** often the case these days he was there in her dream and, based on the way he shouted her name, whatever had occurred before this point must have had her getting herself into some kind of trouble again.

_“Phryne? Phryne! Oh, god, no!”_

She felt a cold touch to her throat and her eyes blinked open. The longish hair, and scruffy, grey beard had her momentarily confused but then she looked into his eyes and she smiled.

“Hello, Jack.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne and Jack are back together at last. At least physically. But, can they find their way to each other emotionally? Or has too much come between them?

One of Tribal Chief Kabui’s scouts had seen the plane go down and a team had been dispatched to look for survivors. Phryne was not the least surprised that Jack had volunteered to be among the search party.

He lifted her from the plane, despite her protestations, and she was gingerly handed down a conveyor belt of arms to the ground.

She wasn’t sure how she’d been envisioning their reunion but it definitely was not one where he played the hero and she a sack of flour.

Finally she was set gently on a fallen tree trunk. Jack had hopped down from the wing and rushed to her, crouching at her side, his eyes searching her’s for signs of disorientation, his hands roaming her arms and legs for injury.

“Do you need to lie down?”

“Stop fussing! I’m fine!” She said, then winced because she’d used the wrong hand to swat him away and her bruised wrist flared up in anger.

“You’re not fine! Where does it hurt?”

“It’s nothing. Just a sore wrist.”

He pulled a kerchief from his pocket and she let him wrap the wrist, her eyes settling softly on the top of his bent head. She’d always adored it when his hair was loose and unruly. It felt like a secret privilege to be allowed to see it that way.

“I don’t have any ice, but that should keep the swelling down a bit. Here, have some water,” he said, freeing a hollow gourd from the belt at his waist, uncorking it, and tipping it to her lips.

She took it from his hands, “I can manage on my own, thank you,” she said, peevishly, her emotions bouncing back and forth from joy to irritation. She avoided his eyes and took a dainty sip, then gave up any pretense and drank deeply. The long night had left her parched.

Once it was determined she was not hurt the rest of the rescue party ignored her, more occupied by gathering her things and siphoning any remaining fuel from the plane to prevent a fire. Jack wouldn’t leave her side.

He sat back on his heels, watching her closely. There was a mix of concern and disbelief in his eyes. There was something else there as well. A kind of caution and uncertainty that caused her irritation to give way to pity and love.

She handed the gourd back, smiling into his eyes. She rested her hand on his bicep and ran it down his arm. He turned his palm up, caught hold of her hand, and pressed it to his lips. His eyes shut tight, a tear squeezing out one corner.

She caressed his cheek, the rough stubble of his beard scratching her palm. “It’s all right. I’m all right,” she said, quietly. He nodded.

He glanced over at the other men briefly and then quickly back at her as if letting her out of his sight for more than a second would cause her to disappear.

“Why are you here, Phryne?”

“Isn’t that obvious? I’ve come to bring you home.”

“That’s not possible,” he said.

“Well, certainly not in that,” she said, eyeing her wounded plane sadly.

“Not in anything. I can’t go back. I thought I’d made that clear in my letter.”

“Your letter didn’t make anything clear. And there is nothing we can’t do when we put our heads together.”

“Ever the optimist,” he said, fondly. “God I’ve missed you, Phryne, but you have no idea what you’re talking about this time.”

“And whose fault is that?” she said, bristling at his condescension. “If you’d only bothered to fill me in, it might never have come to this!"

“There wasn’t time!”

“Hardly a day went by when we didn’t speak, Jack! How hard could it have been to find the time?”

Several members of the search party stopped their work, their heads swiveling at the sound of raised voices. Most of them would not speak much english but they would recognize the angry tones. Phryne gave them a wave and a smile to reassure there was no cause for alarm.

“You’re right,” Jack sighed, “I waited too long. But this is hardly the place for this discussion. May I suggest a truce until we’re somewhere a bit more comfortable, and private?”

“Agreed,” she said, “but don’t think you’re getting out of this. I except a thorough explanation for your outrageous behavior.”

“And, I’ll tell you all, love. I should have done so long ago. I only hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

“If I didn’t think I could, I wouldn’t be here,” she said.

His smile was tight-lipped.

The party was ready to move on. “Can you walk?” He asked.

She stood, holding out her arms and swiveling back and forth to illustrate her mobility. “Not a scratch on me. Now, let’s go. Show me where you’ve been all this while.”

As they followed their guides through the forest, she kept stealing glances at him. He had his sleeves rolled up and his skin was golden. He looked fit, keeping pace with men decades younger than him while carrying his fair share of the load on his back.

He’d lost weight. The moleskin pants he wore were cinched tightly around his waist. The only thing that hinted at his age were some grey streaks in his hair and the surprisingly white beard. After all these years, he was still one of the most physically beautiful men she’d ever known.

She listened to him conversing haltingly with the other men in their native tongue. He hadn’t come anywhere near mastery but that he’d bothered to learn it at all, when he could have just kept to the members of the tribe that spoke English, impressed her. His intelligence had always impressed her. And his kindness, his curiosity and love of learning.

It had been a long time since she’d considered any of this and she began to wonder if, somewhere along the way, she had begun to take him for granted. She moved closer to his side and reached for his hand. He stopped abruptly, turning to her.

“Are you tired? Do you need a rest?”

“No,” she said, “I just…” she bit her lip, feeling as awkward as a school girl out for the first time with the boy she fancied. She glanced down at her hand, hovering in close proximity to his, and lightly touched her fingers to his, “do you mind?”

When he finally understood her meaning, he didn’t take her hand. He pulled her into his arms, pressing her tight to him. She buried her head in the crook of his neck and breathed him in.

It wasn’t until that moment that she realized how tightly coiled she been holding herself all these months. She felt her body loosening, her mind calming. For the first time, in far too long, the ground felt solid under her feet.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered into her hair, his voice breaking.

“Shh. I’m here, Jack. I’m fine.”

He pressed his lips to the top of her head and pulled away. The turmoil in his eyes nearly had her bursting into tears, but now was not the moment to fall apart.

He caught her hand up in his, entwining their fingers and they hurried to catch up with the rest of the party.

The trek was long and exhausting. Her friend, and their host, Chief Kabui had been informed of her arrival and came out to greet them. Phryne was then led away to private chambers for a bath after which, though they’d missed the evening meal, plates were prepared for them from what remained.

Phryne was hungrier than she could remember being in a long time and despite the Chief’s unnecessary apologies for the sparseness of the meal she found nothing lacking and gratefully ate her fill.

After dinner she rather cruelly, but entertainingly, let Jack hem and haw uncomfortably for several minutes about her preference in accommodations. She finally put him out of his misery and told him she’d already had her things sent to his quarters. He showed her the way to his hut on the edge of the tribal village and, once inside, she collapsed upon the bed and was asleep in seconds.

She awoke hours later. The sounds of the forest at night surrounded her. She could feel that he was lying beside her but there was a distance between them. She turned over. The room was nearly pitch black but she could make out the shadow of his shoulder and the expanse of his back. She reached out her hand until it rested at the base of his spine. She felt him shudder. He sighed deeply.

“Are you awake?” she asked, softly.

“Yes.”

She slid her hand along his back, tugging at his shoulder to encourage him to turn and reached for him in the dark. He smelled clean and fresh. Her hand found the now smooth skin of his cheek and jaw.

His mouth was warm and pliant. His arms went around her and she felt his lips curve into a smile against her own. She pressed herself close and their kisses became more urgent. They moved together in a well-rehearsed dance until all space between them had been banished and there was no telling where the one ended and the other began.

“If we were to never leave this bed again you’d have already achieved your goal,” he sighed. “I’m home.”

 

 **She’d slept** late and when she awoke he fussed over her, bringing a breakfast in bed of hot tea, fresh mango and unleavened bread.

“If you’re trying to soften me up, it won’t work. You’re the one with the insatiable appetite, darling, not I.”

“Does that mean you don’t plan to finish this?” He asked, reaching for a slice of mango. She slapped his hand away.

“Get your own!”

He just smiled and continued to stare adoringly at her. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I can’t believe you’re this surprised to see me,” she said.

“It’s been more than six months, Phryne. I thought…”

She stopped with a bite midway to her mouth. His light and bantering tone had taken a heavy turn. “Thought what, Jack?” 

“I thought I’d lost you,” he said, echoing his words from the day before and she realized he hadn’t meant that he feared she’d died in that crash, as she'd assumed at the time.

“You thought I’d chosen to be done with you?”

“What else was I to think? But, I understood. I never blamed you for not wanting to completely upend your life.”

“You don’t blame me?” she said, incredulous. “You say that as though you gave me a choice in the matter! I don’t recall a conversation about this before you up and disappeared. All I remember is a ridiculous fight and then you were gone.”

“I know that was unforgivable of me, and it’s a poor excuse, but I had to act fast. I couldn’t risk your coming with me out of loyalty. I wanted to give you time to consider the consequences.”

“And you decided that disappearing without a word was the way to do that?”

“I left word!” he said, “I told you just where you could find me—if you’d wanted to.”

She very much resented his slightly bitter and self-righteous tone. “You did no such thing! I only found you through my own efforts!”

“What are you talking about? It was in the letter! I gave you my exact location. I couldn’t have been more clear!”

“You left me only one letter, Jack Robinson, and it said nothing about your location, exact or otherwise.” She rose from the bed and dug through her flight bag, pulling out his final missive and tossing it at him.

He unfolded it, raising an eyebrow at the creases that indicated it had once been crumpled into a tight ball. The subsequent tilt of his head said he’d probably deserved as much.

“At least you didn’t burn it,” he mumbled, skimming the page, and finally pointing to a line. “There. Right there,” he said, triumphantly.

“What? The part that says if I need you, you’ll be in my heart? Touching, Jack, if a bit saccharine, but not terribly helpful.”

“I didn’t said I’d _‘be’_ in your heart! I said you’d _‘find’_ me there!”

“What’s the difference?”

He sat back, looking stunned. “I was so sure you’d work it out.” His eyes fell to the opening at the collar of the shirt she wore for a pajama top. “Where’s the locket, Phryne? The one I gave you for our twenty-fifth.”

That there actually existed a date they could rightfully call an anniversary was in dispute but Jack had decided to mark it as the day she’d left with her father for England, with no promise to ever return.

When she’d asked him why he’d choose that, of all days, he’d said it was when she’d first told him, if not in so many words, that she loved him and wanted him with her.

She left the memory behind and her hand flew to her chest, but the locket wasn’t there anymore. She’d taken it off the day that sale notice had appeared in the paper. The day she’d realized he wasn’t coming back. But, she hadn’t gotten rid of it and it was one of the few pieces of jewelry she’d packed for this trip. She retrieved it from the box and held it out to him, her fingers trembling.

He grasped the little gold heart in his large hands and nimbly clicked the latch open, exposing the interior compartment. Sandwiched between images of the two of them was a tiny, carefully folded, strip of paper.

“When did you…?” she whispered in horror at the realization of her mistake.

“When you took it off before bathing, the night of the ball.”

She unfurled the scrap of paper to find a navigational reading. Latitude and longitude.

He had told her where to find him. Exactly.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Phryne need to clear the air before they can move forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some references to peripheral MOD characters in this chapter but I've taken what little the show says about them and used them for my own purposes. No real spoilers.

 

“I don’t understand, Jack. Why all the cloak and dagger?”

Those first few months she’d waffled between anger, anxiety and despair wondering where he was, while all the while the answer had been easily within reach.

“It all happened so quickly,” he said, pathetically. He stood and began pacing the room anxiously. “I didn’t have time to explain everything.”

“So you explained nothing? All you had to say was that you were in trouble! I’d have gone with you, no questions asked.”

“That was part of the problem! I couldn’t ask you to do that. Not when I knew it might mean never returning. I couldn’t ask you to, in one moment, give up everything you have. Everything you’ve worked for!”

“That should have been my choice to make. You could have at least given me that!”

"I thought I had! I thought I’d left the choice to you and given you the chance to make it without haste! But, I made the message in my letter too cryptic,” he said. “You didn’t understand.”

“Not at first,” she said. “But I need you to know that, if I had, I would have been here months ago. I only got your note last week.”

“Last week?”

“Don’t blame Mrs. Morris. She’s as nosy as ever. The problem was me,” Phryne said. “After you left me at the ball, I was angry. I went home but I couldn’t sleep. I was outside your door at the crack of dawn. I went around back to avoid disturbing the neighbors at that hour. I knocked, but when you didn’t answer, I left.”

“You knocked? And when I didn’t answer, you left?” He repeated her words back to her as if they’d been said in a language foreign to him.

She opened and shut her mouth like a fish, her head bobbling as she tried to find a way to explain that very uncharacteristic behavior. “The nature of our fight—the subject of it—left me uneasy. I had expected you to let me in and apologize and explain your temporary insanity. When you didn’t, well, I thought maybe the whole thing was more serious than I’d realized and I decided to give you some space.”

“You decided to give me space.” He was incredulous.

“Can you please stop looking at me as if I’ve suddenly grown two heads!”

“I’m sorry. I’m having trouble wrapping my mind around this version of Phryne Fisher that waits patiently outside a locked door. Especially when you had your own key! No lock-picking required.”

“I was upset! And, honestly, I had no idea what to say to you. When I lost patience waiting for you to come to me, I went back and let myself in but I didn’t find the clues you left and Mrs. Morris missed seeing me that day.”

She didn’t tell him that was because she was crouched on the front step losing her mind because she’d just realized that he’d left her.

“I did worry that one or more of my messages might not reach you, or fall into the wrong hands,” he said. “That’s why I put the most sensitive information—the only information you really needed to locate me—in the locket, where I knew only you would find it.” She could feel his eyes on her. “You never opened it?”

She shook her head, unable to look him in the eye much less explain her actions to him.

She hadn’t opened the locket for the same reason she’d removed any photos of him from display in her home. She’d been desperately trying not to wallow and had decided that out of sight would aid out of mind.

It wasn’t until a fat tear fell into her palm that she realized she was crying and the tears she’d fought so hard to keep at bay finally overran her barricades. He handed her a handkerchief and sat by her side with his arms around her until she’d cried herself out.

“You said you thought you could forgive me,” he said, once she was calmer. “Do you still believe that?”

She looked up, into his stricken eyes, her heart near to bursting with a mix of emotions she was having trouble processing. She was angry at him and the whole unnecessary situation they were in. But more than that, she was ashamed of herself.

People thought her fearless. She thought herself so, but when it came to facing her grief over Jack she’d run from it, trying to bury it instead of greeting it head on.

She’d stayed away from his home because she didn’t want the reminders of him, or to face the neighbors whose disapproving stares and nosy questions they’d always laughed about.

She hadn’t even confided in her friends just how much she'd been hurting, thinking she was above letting a man, any man, have such an affect on her. She’d faked hollow smiles while sticking her head in the sand, and trying to erase him from her life, if not her heart. It hadn’t worked, and, in doing so, she’d wasted so much time. He wasn’t the only one feeling in need of forgiveness right now.

“I love you, Jack,” she said, choking back a sob that threatened to send her spiraling again.

“I know you do. But that’s not the same thing, is it,” he said. “I hurt you. I thought I’d done what I could to mitigate the damage, but I messed it up, sweetheart. I made you think I’d abandoned you.”

“I made you think I’d let you go.”

“You did nothing wrong, Phryne! Whatever pain I’ve experienced was self-inflicted. I won’t have you blaming yourself for any of this!”

“I think we can easily share blame here,” she said, dabbing at her eyes and pulling herself together again. “You should have found a way to talk to me. And I should have trusted that you had good reasons for your actions and dug deeper. We both made mistakes and all this self-flagellation won’t change that.”

“I think I deserve the beating. I could have reached out again when I didn’t hear from you. If only to let you know I was safe. I told myself I’d given you a choice and couldn’t fault you for making one, or go begging after you to change your mind,” he said. “Which all sounds very noble, but it wasn’t. I was angry with you for not even trying to get a message to me. I thought you’d moved on without a glance back, while all the while you were thinking the same of me,” he said. “I don’t see how any of this is your fault. I set it in motion. I hurt you."

She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Don’t let my tears concern you too much. They’ve been held up for some time now and, frankly, it’s a relief to finally let them go,” she said. “We’re not broken, Jack. We’re just a bit banged up. And if you can forgive my delayed arrival, then I can forgive your idiotic attempt at spy craft. In fact, I already have.”

His arm tightened around her shoulder and she felt him press his cheek to the top of her head.

“I do love you, Phryne Fisher. More than anything. Though I’m not sure I deserve you.”

“It’s a good thing you’re not the one who gets to decide that.”

“I’m so sorry I left you in the dark.”

“Then stop apologizing and enlighten me.”

He told her that, as she’d suspected, he was following up on his suspicions of corruption with the police force. What he’d found had been much larger than he could have imagined.

“It’s the stuff of fiction, Phryne. A secret society of prominent businessmen, members of organized crime families, police and even politicians. You’d not believe how high in government this goes.”

“None of this is a revelation, Jack! I know who you’re talking about. There have been rumours about him for ages.”

“The rumours don’t do it justice. He’s a large part of it but it’s far more pervasive than just one man. This is a many headed hydra, Phryne. These people are everywhere, even among your friends.”

“Is that why you wouldn’t tell me anything? You didn’t trust me?”

“I didn’t trust _them_. I don’t mean your friends, necessarily. Not everyone is aware of who they are in bed with. This thing is so large that the left hand doesn’t really know what the right hand is doing. There are legitimate businesses and even charitable causes among their concerns and the people running those know nothing about the nefarious arms of the operation. It would be very easy for someone to confide in the wrong person, or say something in all innocence, to disastrous consequences.”

“Isn’t that a bit paranoid, Jack?”

“I wish it were! These people can do real harm. They have done real harm! Look what happened to your friend Edwina Carson’s husband!”

“I’d hardly call Edwina a friend,” Phryne said, “she’s never liked me, but Rupert is a good man and the stories about him are completely outrageous!”

“Exactly! Because he’s been too outspoken. They tried police harassment and when that didn’t work to shut him up they planted stories discrediting him in the press.”

“They were planning to do the same to you. Is that right, Jack?”

“Yes. I still have some informants and friends that I can trust. I had it on good authority there was talk of destroying my reputation,” he said, “which meant that they’d go after you as well. In part to hurt me, but mainly because my success through the years is rather inextricably linked to yours.”

“But, it’s not as though we haven’t had people try to hurt us before. We’ve had our detractors through the years and we’ve always come out on top. What made you think we couldn’t weather it this time?”

“Ironically, it was our success in weathering those earlier storms that did us in. We’d come through it before and there was concern that we would again. Besides, fixing me up to look like a corrupt cop would take too long and you weren’t likely to sit quietly by as they did it. It would draw too much attention, take too long, and leave them too open to exposure.”

The day of the Fire and Policeman’s Ball Jack’s informant had come to him with a warning. They weren’t going to bother with ruining his reputation. The decision had been made to permanently remove the thorn in thier side.

“On the way home from the ball, a car would run me off the road and no one would survive the crash,” he said.

“And I would have been in that car with you,” she said. “Is that why you tried to back out of going to the ball at the last minute?”

“I thought if we stayed away I could buy more time, but they’d have just found another way and I couldn’t take the chance that you’d be with me when they made their move.”

“Did it not occur to you to tell me then? When my life was in danger?”

“Of course it did, but you were only in danger if you were with me. Once I’d gone, they’d watch you to see what you knew. As long as you made no moves against them, you’d be safe,” he said. “I couldn’t tell you anything, because if I had, you’d have gone after them head on like the freight train you are.”

“Charming freight train,” she corrected.

“These people are immune to even your charms, sweetheart.”

“Impossible,” she said. It was a brief moment of levity they both needed. “You said you’d put the paper in my locket before the ball. When, exactly, did you start planning your escape?”

“I only learned of the threat that morning. When you insisted we go to the ball, and I couldn’t come up with an argument not to that wouldn’t raise your suspicions, I made my decision.”

“Why here?” She asked. He might have found a more comfortable place of exile.

“This was the only one place I could think of on short notice. There aren’t many people that know of our connection to Chief Kabui,” he said. “I’m not sure I planned to stay here this long but…”

“You were hoping I’d eventually turn up?”

“I suppose I might have been.”

“How long would you have waited for me?”

He shrugged. “It’s not that bad here. Beautiful country and plenty of work to keep me busy. My host has been most generous and I had no where else to be.”

Forever, then. He’d have waited here forever. She felt a stray tear roll down her cheek which he was gallant enough to pretend not to see.

“The topic you chose for our parting fight, Jack, why that subject, in particular?”

He huffed out a small laugh.“You can’t even manage to say the word, Phryne. That’s why I chose that _particular subject_. Because I knew I’d get a response from you that I could spin into an argument.”

“You expected me to turn you down.”

“Of course,” he said, as though that were obvious. “It was what I wanted you to do. What I needed you to do. I didn’t really mean for the fight to draw so much attention. It was just meant to be a way for me to leave without you. I’m sorry it became so public. My anxiety might have got the better of me.”

“You seemed so very angry. I hardly recognized you.”

“I’m sorry," he said, again, and she thought if he apologized to her one more time she might scream, "but in the end, it may have been for the best. The public rejection helped to sell the estrangement.”

“But I didn’t reject you, Jack. I didn’t really turn you down.”

“What?”

“I didn’t turn you down. I made a joke.”

“Yes,” he said. “I knew it was joke, Phryne, but I had to spin it into that fight. I needed to create a reason for me to leave without you.”

“I know that. Or, I know that now. But, since that night, I’ve had a lot of time to think and, among other things, I’ve found myself growing increasing resentful that you turned my silly comment into my final word on the subject. I didn’t turn you down, Jack. I never got the chance to truly answer you!”

He blinked rapidly, as though he was having trouble keeping up with her. “Are you saying that you were going to accept?”

“I don’t know what I was going to do!” She cried. “I had a gut reaction, which you then took as a rejection, and then you said such horrible things. Have I really made you feel like that? Have you really felt taken for granted?”

“No! Of course not! It was all an act, Phryne!”

“I don’t know,” she said, skeptically. “You had your responses too quickly at the ready for me to believe they were completely fabricated. You said you’d put your own needs aside and that you felt I’d made a fool of you.”

“Oh, god. I wish you’d forget that. I was only repeating things I knew other people have said about us through the years. People that don’t understand what we have and who you are.”

“Who I am?” She parroted. “What does that mean? Who am I, Jack?”

“Not who some people think you are,” he said. “And neither am I! You have never bewitched or ensnared me, Phryne, and I have never given up heartfelt desires to be with you. It makes me so angry that, even in this day and age, there are those that think you should have clipped your wings for me. That you should have settled down and provided me a home and, perhaps, children. They think you’ve done me a disservice because they can’t imagine that I wouldn’t want those things and they blame you for not providing me with them. Which is absurd because, beyond it being no one’s business how we choose to live or lives, I didn’t want those things!”

“Are you sure? There was a time you wanted all of those things, I believe.”

“I wanted _you_. The way you are. I wanted the excitement. I wanted your 'infinite variety'. I never wanted a different version of you, Phryne. If I had, I wouldn't have fallen in love with you in the first place. I have no regrets. Other than these last few months .”

“No regrets? What about complaints? Sparrow said that everyone thought you a fool for not knowing that I’ve only been using you all these years. You’ve had to put up with that kind of ridicule because of me.”

“When did you speak to Sparrow?”

“He’s not the point, Jack!” She said, impatiently. “We’re the point! You and I. And I’ve been wondering why I would be so hesitant to agree to what has already been a fact in my life for a long time now. You’re my lover, my partner and my best friend. We’re committed to each other. For all intents and purposes, aren’t we already married? But for the legalities?”

“I suppose that argument could be made.” His brows knit together. “Where are you going with this?”

“I guess my point is—if it’s important to you—the legalities might be arranged.”

He laughed. Loudly. “If that’s not the least romantic proposal of marriage ever uttered, I don’t know what is!”

“Don’t laugh at me, Jack!”

“Phryne. My darling.” He took hold of her hands, locking his eyes on hers. “As much as I appreciate your concession to become my wife— if that's what that was—the fight was a ruse! Nothing more. And, as you said, we’re already committed to each other. We decided long ago that the legalities were not necessary. That wasn’t a sacrifice on my part.”

“Truly?”

“Truly. I’ve loved our life together and if we got married today I don’t see how anything would change.”

“Other than the way the rest of the world perceives our relationship.”

“Honestly, I couldn’t care less about that. Never have.”

“So, you don’t want to get married?”

“I have no strong objection one way or the other, but I’ve never really seen the need. Do you want to get married?”

“I’m not sure I see the need either. Years ago I had my reasons for not wanting to marry, but times have changed to the point where I don’t worry about them anymore. We could marry now without me feeling like I’d lose my rights and identity. But, on the other hand, these changing times mean that not even Mrs. Morris does more than sniff in a mildly disapproving way when I stay over,” she shrugged. “Society tends to tolerate our kind of union more easily now.”

“I'm not sure what society has to do with it. We've always said we’d never marry simply to satisfy social conventions,” he said. “I don’t need a piece of paper and state recognition to know that you are my partner in this life.”

“Nor do I,” she said.

“So, then, if we ever do decide to marry, it will be for us, and us alone? Are we agreed?”

“Yes.”

“Good, because, honestly, I’m more concerned right now with this conversation you seemed to have had with Sparrow about our argument at the ball. When did you see him?”

“The day before I left Melbourne,” she said. “I think I threw some doubt on our vicious split. I might have stuck up for you a little too emphatically. But in my defense, the man’s a pig.”

“I wish you hadn’t let him get under your skin. Had you already found the microfiche? Did you tell him about it?”

“I may have hinted at it,” she said. “I didn’t intend to but he was so damn smug. I wanted to wipe that look off of his face.”

“Did you succeed? Did he believe you have the photos?”

“There was definitely a moment of fear in his eyes.”

Jack was up and pacing the small hut again. “I’m not surprised. Rumours had been circulating that Madame Lyon was recording her clients and collecting other forms of insurance.”

“More like articles of blackmail.”

Jack shrugged. “Maybe, but she’d risk alienating her clientele if she started using it for blackmail. I think it was more a get-out-of-jail-free card.”

“How did you get your hands on it?”

“She owed me a favor. And she trusts me—to an extent. She was only willing to hand over the bit on Sparrow but she has more damaging information on others. Apparently some people are very chatty between the sheets. She was willing to share some of it with me but she kept it in her own hands.”

“Is that how you learned how high the corruption goes?”

“The corruption runs deeper than some elected officials visiting the local madame, but her information confirmed some suspicions.”

“Is she safe, Jack? I’m sure there are plenty of people that would like to get their hands on what she’s got.”

“I think she’s safe for now. I don't think she fully recognizes the ramifications of what she's collected. And she has her protectors. But, if it gets too hot, she’ll pack up and go, just as her predecessors have.”

“Just like you did.”

“Are you disappointed in me?”

“For leaving? I understand why you did it, and as difficult I found your absence, it’d have been ten times worse to bury you.”

“So, what now, Phryne? I can’t go back. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But you can.”

“I chose my path a long time ago and it’s the one I walk hand-in-hand with you, Jack Robinson.” She stood up and looped her arms around his neck. “You’re stuck with me, Inspector.”

"You're sure?"

"Never more."

“That, Miss Fisher, is what I call a romantic proposal.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne and Jack look to a future together.

That night there was a gathering in her honor. The feast was something to remember.

There was a delicious pork that had been roasted in an earth oven and served with rice, yams, and other root vegetables native to the area. The array of fruit was truly amazing with mounds of pineapple, mango, passion fruit and more. Phryne’s favorite dish was fish cooked in a lime and coconut sauce.

It wasn’t clear if Jack had a favorite as he seemed to be enjoying everything equally.

 

 **Eventually Phryne’s** legs began to complain about the prolonged period of sitting crossed-leg on the ground and she stood to stretch them as the dinner was being cleared away.

Chief Kabui rose to accompany her, offered his arm, and they moved outside of the circle side by side.

“Thank you for this lovely evening, my friend,” she said, “the food was exceptional and your hospitality more than.”

“It is my pleasure, there is no need to thank me.”

“There is. And not just for tonight. I need to thank you for looking after _him_ for me, as well,” she said, looking back at Jack, who was currently engaged in conversation with the chief’s wife and their daughter.

“That has also been my pleasure. He is an excellent guest. Always willing to lend a hand and one of few that does not allow me to win at chess. He has the respect to challenge me. I am very fond of him.”

She smiled. “As am I. Has he been happy here?”

“He has not been unhappy,” Kabui said, thoughtfully. “Today he appears content in a way I have not yet seen.”

“I think your banquet might have something to do with that!” Phryne quipped.

“I do not.”

Phryne blushed, then changed the subject. “Your daughter is well? She tells me she’s finished with her studies.”

“Yes. She returned to us in the spring. She is happy to be home and back among her people,” he said, “and, for that, I am also indebted to you.”

“How so?”

“You advocated for her. Both you and Inspector Robinson. If not for your counsel I would have forbidden her to leave and perhaps lost her entirely. She’d have either run off in defiance of me or stayed and grown in resentment toward me.”

“You were grieving your son at the time. It was understandable that you would be reluctant to part with another child.”

“If that were all it had been, then yes, it might have been understandable. But, I did not see higher education to be of value to a woman.”

“Do you now?”

“She has an enviable intelligence. Her medical knowledge will be beneficial to our village,” he said, looking at his daughter proudly.

“I’m happy if Jack and I played even a small part in helping you make the decision.”

“More than a small part! It was impossible to not come around to your way of thinking! You are a force of nature, my friend. And, in his quiet way, Jack is a persuasive man.”

“We make a good team.”

His ears must have been burning, because Jack looked across to them, his eyes moving between Phryne and the Chief curiously.

“You are bound, yes?” Kabui asked.

“Bound?”

“Mated. The two of you,” he clarified.

“Well…I suppose you could—“ She shook her head. They’d just settled this! “Yes,” she said. “Jack and I are together.”

“I am glad of it. I would like to give your union my blessing, as I do for members of my tribe when they choose a mate,” Kabui said. “Would this be welcome?”

“Oh!,” Phryne said. This was unexpected. She looked across at Jack, who had returned to his conversation with the other women, and then back at her host.

 

 **“It is alright** with you, isn’t it?” She asked. Jack looked a little stunned and she began to wonder if she should not have been so quick to speak for him. “It wouldn’t be legally binding or anything.”

“Perhaps not for us, but the blessing is binding by tribal law,” Jack said. “We can’t accept it and make light of it, Phryne. Did you feel unable to reject his offer?”

“No! That’s not it at all! I’m not saying this well.” She pulled him away from the crowd that was gathering in anticipation of the ceremonial dances. This wasn’t a conversation to be had in furtive whispers.

“I didn’t agree to keep from offending him and I don’t think of it as some lark, Jack. I understand what it means. It’s a public declaration of our commitment to each other.”

“But, we just said we didn’t need that.”

“We said we would do it only for ourselves,” she corrected. “This fills that requirement, doesn’t it? There will be no piece of paper. No legal authority codifying our decision. But it will be real. To us.”

“You truly want this?” His head cocked to one side and he smiled in that lopsided way of his.

“I think I do,” she said, surprising even herself by how much she wanted it, “but only if you want it too. My attempt at a proposal earlier may have been clumsy but it was sincere and after our discussion earlier, this feels like fate. We’re not getting any younger, Jack. A chance like this might not come again.”

“I suppose if we’re going to do this, it’s fitting that it be in front of a tribal elder, in the middle of a jungle, and in a language we barely understand.”

“We’ll understand enough. We’ll understand what we need to,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “Excitement and infinite variety, Jack. Isn’t that what you said you wanted?”

His eyes grew dark and his voice dropped to that lower register that always made her body hum. “I believe what I said I wanted was you. Always and only. You.”

 

 **It was all** a bit of a blur after that.

Phryne remembered the dancers with their bright colors, painted faces and feathered costumes. She remembered the chanting and the drums and then, when the entertainment was complete, she remembered standing before Chief Kabui with Jack.

The Chief wore his ceremonial garb and spoke first in his native tongue, following the traditional words with a blessing for the union of his dear friends in their own language.

She remembered Jack’s eyes. She knew the happiness she saw in them was mirrored in her own. She remembered the cheering of the crowd and the very real joy they seemed to share in observing this public acknowledgment of love and commitment.

Once the blessing had been given, they were led by a parade of villagers to the hut at the edge of the village. They stood in the doorway for a moment and waved awkwardly at the gathered crowd. When Jack shut the door behind them a cheer rose up on the other side.

“I believe we are now expected to consummate our union,” Jack said, wryly.

“They’re not planning to stay out there while we do, are they?” Phryne asked, finding it hard to maintain a straight face.

“I don’t think so,” he said, on the verge of laughter himself. He peered through the slats of the door. “It looks like they’re dispersing.”

“Good.” She removed the floral wreath from her hair and placed it gently on a table. “My exhibitionist days are behind me!”

“I’m not sure I ever had any!”

Laughing, they fell into each other’s arms.

“That was…” he began.

“Surreal?” She finished.

“Yes.”

“But it was wonderful too, didn’t you think?”

“Yes. It was wonderful,” he agreed. He kept his arms around her waist but leaned back to look into her eyes. “Do you feel different?”

“No. Not really,” she said, after a moment’s assessment. “That’s not to say I didn’t feel the significance of it, but it didn’t really change anything for us, did it? For me, it only confirmed what I already knew.”

“I think it’s the same for me,” he said. “It was significant in the sharing of our commitment but it doesn’t change that commitment.”

“Exactly,” she said, running her hands up his chest and looping them behind his neck. “That said, before we get back to business as usual, I feel it’s only right that we complete the ritual.”

He moved his hands slowly down her back, his lips curving into a rather lecherous grin.

She squealed in surprise as he lifted her from the ground. She wrapped her legs around his waist and let him carry her to the bed.

 

 **“What’s next** , Jack?” She was draped over him with her head on his chest as his hand played lazily along her spine.

“Next? Have pity on an old man, Phryne. I’m barely alive here.” He groaned.

Their enthusiasm for each other had rivaled even the early days. They’d made love, and talked, and laughed, and made love again, until the dawn of the approaching day was upon them.

“I meant what’s next regarding our situation,” she said. “What’s your plan?”

He shifted to bring his arms around her more firmly and kissed the top of her head.

“I’m not sure I had much of one. I’ve made such a mess of things it’s been hard to see a clear way out of it.”

“You did not make this mess. You were trying to clean things up!”

“And what a fantastic job I’ve done of that.”

“Don’t be morose, Jack. I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time and I won’t let you ruin that.”

“I’m not morose. I’m happy too, love. I’m just regretting the time I’ve wasted. We had talked for years about the freedom my retirement would bring and yet I kept pushing it off. I couldn’t see who I was if I wasn’t a detective. When they finally forced me out I still couldn’t let the work go and now I’ve severely limited the very freedom we were so anxious to have!”

“You haven’t! If anything you’ve made us more free! We can do anything we like. Go anywhere we want.”

“Anywhere but home.”

“Home is where we make it,” she shrugged.

“What about your work?”

“Melbourne doesn’t have a monopoly on problems and crime. I can be a detective anywhere. Or, I could hang it all up and try something new. It wouldn’t be the first time in my life I’ve picked up and started over.”

“Could you really leave Melbourne for good?”

“I settled in Melbourne because I found a family there but most of them have scattered to winds now and, even in the early days, I always came and went as I pleased. The only reason I’ve consistently returned through the years is because you were there.”

“That is not true. You have more than me there. You have friends! And that club of yours. I know these things are important to you.”

“Of course they are, but I have friends all over and I manage to keep in touch. The world is a smaller place these days. Our options are unlimited, Jack. If you can’t safely return to Melbourne, then we’ll do what we can from a distance. Or, we could chuck it all and live out the rest of our days on various tropical islands making love until our bodies give out.”

“I’ve often thought you’d be the death of me, and you make it sound an enjoyable way to go.”

“So what’s stopping us? I know it would be hard for you to let it all go, but maybe it’s time to do just that. You’ve carried more than your fair share of weight on your shoulders long enough.”

“You’ve always made me out to be more noble than I truly am, and I love you for it—but I wasn’t noble, Phryne. I was selfish and short-sighted. I couldn’t see what was really important.”

“And, what is that?”

“You. Us. Life!” He said. “At a time when I should have been thinking about shagging on various tropical islands with you, I threw myself into a dreary crusade to restore honor to my profession. But the thing is, there is already honor in my profession. There always has been. I’m not a big enough narcissist to think it starts and ends with me! I had help from those that came before, and those that worked alongside me, and there are still more coming up behind to take up the mantle.

“I’m never going to end corruption, Phryne. Corruption will always snake its way into the corridors of power and there will always be bad apples, even among my colleagues. I’m growing tired of the fight. I nearly lost everything to it.”

“You didn’t lose me.”

“It was a close thing.” He lifted her chin and kissed her lips softly.

She’d never heard him sound so defeatist and it worried her.

“You are a noble man, Jack. The best I’ve ever known. And you’re being too hard on yourself! It comes as no surprise to me that you weren’t able to look the other way at wrongdoing within the profession you’ve devoted your life to.”

“But it turned out to be so much bigger than I’d imagined, Phryne. I don’t know where to begin to dismantle it.”

“You have me to help you now. There’s nothing we can’t work out when we put our heads together.”

“It might take awhile and I don’t know how successful we’ll be from a distance.”

“Well, I need you alive, so the distance can’t be helped. And we have all the time in the world, Jack. We can chip away at it slowly.”

“I had been thinking about leaking some items to the press. I thought it might put a spotlight on certain individuals and make it more difficult for them to operate in secrecy.”

“That sounds promising.”

“We’d have to pick the right publications. Ones we’re sure haven’t been corrupted. And, we’ll need to be careful with what is leaked to make sure we don’t put the papers or reporters in jeopardy.”

“In that case, I think we should stay away from outright crime and target society news. I don’t care how much power you have, once you become the target of ugly social gossip doors start closing that are hard to reopen.”

“We shouldn't go after the main target until we’ve cut off some of the smaller heads.”

“Exactly,” she said. “Give me some time with your evidence and I’ll find the people and areas we can exploit.”

“Have I told you lately how much I adore you?”

“You spent the last several hours telling me just that.”

“That was about how much I adore your body. I’m talking about your mind now.”

“Well, I am the whole package,” she said.

“Yes, my love. That you are,” he agreed.

“Let’s get some sleep, darling. We have a lot of work ahead of us.”

She tucked contentedly into his side and closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been sleeping when he suddenly jerked and sat up, nearly throwing her off the bed.

“Your plane’s fuel tank was quite full,” he said.

“What?”

“You had a lot of fuel remaining.”

“What are you on about?” She was still half-asleep.

“The day you arrived—did you come through Port Moresby first?”

“I made a brief stop there. Why?”

“How did you find me, Phryne? You said you never opened the locket.”

She’d been wondering when he would start trying to put the pieces together. In the beginning he’d been too happy to see her to ask a lot of questions, but she’d known this moment would come eventually. She shook off her sleep and sat up in the bed beside him.

“I followed the money,” she sighed.

“My money?”

“I knew you’d need something to live off, no matter where you ended up, so first I tried tracking your pension cheques. I have to admit I was disheartened when I discovered you’d forfeited your entire pension! I couldn’t imagine what else you planned to live on. It wasn’t until then that the sale of your home really made sense to me. Do you know that you broke my heart all over again when I saw that notice?”

“I’m sorry about that. I waited as long as I could,” he said. His eyes flashed again, then narrowed, curiously. “Phryne? That house sold months ago, yet you said you only got my message from the neighbor recently. What were you doing in the neighborhood?”

“Just checking up on my property,” she said, biting her lip and shrugging apologetically.

“You bought my house?”

“It was an impulse.”

“It was a small fortune!”

“Yes, well, it was worth it! For one thing, it was my home too! In a way. I couldn’t just let someone else have it. And, later, being the new owner made the real estate agent much more forthcoming with the information I needed.”

“He told you where he’d wired the money from the sale,” Jack said, flatly. “I should have hired a woman,” he muttered under his breath.

“You don’t think I could work my charms on a woman?”

“What am I saying,” he rolled his eyes, “of course you could.”

“I assumed you’d have moved the money a few times,” she said, “I was afraid I’d have to charm bankers around the globe but, when I learned the first stop, I had great hopes of finding you here with Kabui. It’s far enough off the beaten path and, like you said, hardly anyone knows of the connection. It really was very clever of you, Jack.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“Although, I did worry someone might have had the same idea I did. You have moved the money on, haven’t you?”

“Of course,” he said.

“So, anyone tracking it would assume you’ve moved on as well?”

“That’s the idea. Who knew you were coming here?”

“No one knew my final destination. The few people I told only knew the plans as far as Port Moresby. And I left the length of my trip open-ended so no one will be looking for me yet. I was careful.”

“I’m sure you were,” he said.

She bit her lip again. Thinking on it, she wasn’t entirely sure that was true. Her search for Jack hadn’t been a typical investigation. She’d been far more emotionally involved than was usual and, rather than careful, she may have been hasty, and a bit sloppy.

Her confrontation with Sparrow sprang to mind.

Jack had been gone for months by that time. It was unlikely that Sparrow would have still been tailing her on a daily basis and yet he happened upon her at a critical moment. The only logical explanation was that he’d been tipped off by the man behind the desk when she showed up asking questions about Jack’s pension.

Sparrow was a lazy detective. He wouldn’t work too hard to find Jack on his own. As long as he was gone and staying quiet, Sparrow would be happy to leave well enough alone. But, he wasn’t a stupid man and Sparrow had a keen sense of self-preservation. He would have covered his bases by setting precautionary traps for anyone sniffing around and she’d walked right into one of them.

Once he’d learned she was looking for Jack, all he had to do was follow where she led.

She remembered the car she’d thought had been following her on the day she’d visited the real estate agent. How long might it have taken Sparrow to figure out which office in that building she’d been visiting and why?

No doubt when the police came asking questions the agent wouldn’t hesitate to tell them what they wanted to know.

“Phryne? What’s wrong?” Jack asked, placing a hand on her thigh to draw her attention back to the present.

“Hopefully nothing,” she said. She told him her concerns and then tried, in the next breath, to dismiss them.

“If they tracked me to Port Moresby they’d have lost me there. I took off again almost immediately and then the plane went down in a storm. Even if they find the wreckage, it’s miles from here. They wouldn’t know where to start looking for me.”

“But if they do find the plane, won’t this be the first place they look?”

“I don’t see why.”

“You said you didn’t tell many people about your trip. But you did tell someone. It had to be someone you trust. I’m guessing it was Miss Birnside.”

“I did tell Birdie, but I didn’t tell her the real reason for my trip and I didn’t give any destination beyond Port Moresby.”

“What happens after your plane is found and it’s discovered that you’ve gone missing? She knows about the connection with Chief Kabui.”

That was true. Chief Kabui was a great friend of Birdie’s from the war. It was through her that Phryne had been employed to look into the disappearance of his oldest child.

“We’re getting ahead of ourselves. That plane will not be easily spotted and even if it is found, Birdie has no love for the police. She’d launch her own full-scale, clandestine search operation before telling them anything.”

“I hope you’re right,” Jack said, “but I think it’s best if we make plans to move on soon.”

“We can head to town later today for supplies and, while there, I’ll send a telegram to Birdie to let her know about the crash and tell her I’m fine. I’ll tell her I’ve decided to take an extended holiday to ward off any possible search for me. Will that make you feel better?”

Jack nodded and they settled back under the sheets. Jack curled against Phryne’s back. She snuggled into him, feeling the familiar and welcome weight of his arm draped over her waist. Within minutes they were both sound asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A discovery causes Phryne to make a drastic choice and the detectives embark on a plan to regain control of their lives.

They’d begun their journey to the nearest town late in the day, slept rough, and awoken early to spend the better part of the next en route. The entire trip had to be undertaken on foot, over rugged terrain, and it was with excited anticipation of a warm bath and soft bed that they entered the lobby of the Mount Hagen Hotel.

Phryne rang the bell to summon the clerk from the back only to feel Jack’s hand on her arm, steering her away from the desk and back out the door onto the street.

“What on earth?”

He handed her a newspaper and silently waited as she read the notice, her heart falling with every word.

 

 

> **FAMED AVIATRIX MISSING**
> 
> _A private plane piloted by the Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher has disappeared over Papua New Guinea. She has not been heard from since leaving Melbourne. It appears she arrived at her known destination; the capital city of Port Moresby, but moved on from there to parts unknown. She was piloting a Cessna 172 Skyhawk; white, with red markings on the body. If anyone has any information they are asked to call, (0x) xxxx-xxxx._
> 
> _The Hon. Miss Fisher is an experienced pilot having flown several missions over the region during the war. A search is currently being organized._

 

“What was it Robert Burns said about best laid schemes?” She sighed. “I’ve barely been gone four days, Jack! How is this already news?” Phryne pulled her hat down more firmly on her head and adjusted her sunglasses. “Do you think they know where the plane went down?”

“It doesn’t say anything about your plane going down. Only that you've disappeared. Many of the radar station on the islands were disbanded after the war. Perhaps that made it more difficult to track your flight.”

“I’m not an idiot, Jack,” she snapped.“I do know how to fly under the radar! Even if they were trying to track me, they’d have lost me shortly after I left Port Moresby!”

“No need to take my head off!”

“I’m sorry, “she said. She was hot, and tired, and had been looking forward to a night in more comfortable surroundings. “I’m just angry with myself. You managed to remain hidden here for months and I nearly led them right to you!”

“We don’t know that this has anything to do with me,” he reassured her, “we don’t even know that they were tracking you and, even if they were, your precautions were successful. They do seem to have lost you after Port Moresby.”

“But it’s all very odd, Jack! There was nothing extraordinary about my trip. It should have gone completely unnoticed by the press,” she said. “It might make sense if there was mention of my plane going down but, without that, to say I’ve disappeared after such a short time away is shoddy and sensationalist journalism!”

“Yes,” he said, rubbing at the stubble on his chin. “Maybe we’re not the only ones that have considered manipulating the press for our own purposes.”

“You think they were tracking me in order to get to you and, when they lost me, put this out in the hopes the public will help?”

“Do I sound paranoid?” He asked. He seemed sincere in asking, as though he was beginning to question his own sanity.

“Paranoid or not, we can’t stay here. Not with my picture all over the papers!”

“While I agree we shouldn’t press our luck, I’m not too worried about being recognized at the moment. There’s no picture of me and you don’t look much like that photo.”

She looked at the photo critically. She’d always been fond of it. It had appeared in print once before, accompanying a piece the Argus had done on female aviators in the wake of Amy Johnson’s successful solo flight from England to Darwin, Australia in 1930.

It showed her in flight gear, standing in front of a Tiger Moth airplane she’d once owned.

“I suppose it is a bit dated,” she frowned.

“You are as lovely as the day we met. Possible more so,” Jack said. “I was only referring to our current state of dishevelment.”

“No need to patronize me, Jack. I’m not _that_ vain,” she said, “and you make a fair point about our appearance.”

Phryne wore no makeup and her linen shirt was damp from the hike. With her muddy breeches, tucked into knee-high socks and workman’s boots, she looked more like a member of the Women’s Land Army after a long day in the fields than anyone’s idea of a titled member of high society.

After months in the jungle Jack had gone a bit feral. He’d shaved when Phryne arrived but hadn’t maintained the practice on a daily basis. His skin was tanned and his hair was wavy and growing well past his ears. He looked at least ten years younger than his true age.

He had a worn leather Barmah hat, soiled above the brim from sweat, pulled low over his eyes. The collar of his cotton shirt was open, in capitulation to the heat, revealing the top of a sweat drenched undershirt. His faded trousers had clearly seen better days.

Personally, she thought he looked terribly sexy, but the image he portrayed was far from the buttoned up Detective Inspector Jack Robinson of the Victoria Police.

“I don’t think anyone will immediately make the connection but we should still be careful and complete our business here as quickly as possible,” he said.

“Let’s head straight to the airfield to inquire about a plane. Even if we can find one for sale, it could take some time to get it ready to fly,” Phryne said, as she tucked her hair up under her hat to further disguise herself.

 

 **Luck was on** their side and they were able to secure an airplane for a very reasonable price. It was an older model, but well maintained and perfect for their current needs.

The bush plane would require less runway for take off, and its large, low-pressure tundra tires allowed for landing on unprepared surfaces. They’d be able to put down within a mile of Kabui’s village which meant they could return immediately and avoid any further risk of being recognized in town.

Phryne oversaw the plane’s preparation while Jack hunted up the other supplies they would need for the unpredictable travel ahead. Within two hours he was back by her side.

“Will she fly?”

“Definitely! She’s a sturdy beast. Should serve us well,” Phryne said. “Did you find everything we’ll need?”

“Close enough.”

“Then we should get going while we still have plenty of light.”

“What about that telegram you wanted to send?” Jack asked.

“I’m having second thoughts about that,” Phryne replied. “Tell me, do you really think that story might have been planted?”

“I don’t know, Phryne, but it’s out there, which means people will be on the lookout for you.”

“Yes. It also means my friends believe I’ve gone missing.”

“Your telegram will set that right,” he said.

“Word that I’m safe and sound will only draw more attention to the story,” she said. “If the point of it was to flush me out in the hopes I’ll lead them to you, then I’ll have played right into their hands.”

“Perhaps there is a way to get word to your friends but warn them to keep it to themselves?”

“Possibly. Birdie in particular could be trusted to keep quiet but I don’t see how I can convey what needs saying in a telegram,” she said, “and for all we know they could be watching for communications from me.”

“Now I’ve got you sounding paranoid too!”

“Better safe than sorry, Jack. I think we should get back to the cover of Kabui’s lands. We can consider our options there.”

 

 **“She will come** to me when she receives this news. Without a doubt,” Kabui said, after Jack and Phryne showed him the notice in the paper.

As one of very few people that knew Jack had assisted in the search for Kabui’s son, Birdie would put together the real reason for Phryne’s sudden trip and come in search of her.

“Yes, I think we can expect her any day. When she arrives, I need you to give her this,” Phryne said, handing Kabui a thick envelope.

“Are you sure you cannot wait and give this to her yourself? She will be most disappointed to miss you.”

“I hate to leave without seeing her as well, but we can’t be here when she arrives. She doesn’t yet know the details behind Jack’s flight from Melbourne and it’s possible she could inadvertently lead our enemies here.”

It had been a difficult decision, and one Phryne knew would be hard on her friends, but the news of her supposed disappearance provided an opportunity that was too good to let pass.

Jack had taken some convincing, arguing it was not what she’d signed up for, among other things.

“I wish you'd reconsider this, Phryne. You wanted to be able to keep in touch with your friends! Maybe even visit from time to time. If you do this, that will be impossible!”

“Sacrifices must be made! And it’s not forever—hopefully. I’m alright with it, Jack,” she said.

“But is it fair to Miss Birnside? She’d be a valuable ally, to be sure, but I hesitate to draw her into this for the same reasons I kept it all from you.”

“We have a plan for fighting this now that you didn’t have before, and we’ll need someone on the ground in Melbourne if we hope to be successful. If we’re careful—which we will be—there’s no reason Birdie should be in danger,” Phryne said. “Besides, if there is anyone I don’t worry about, it’s her. Birdie has gone up against far more dangerous foes in the past.”

“I can attest to that,” Kabui said. “If not for her daring work to disrupt Japanese supply lines along the Kokoda Track, they might have succeeded in capturing the port. It was one of many assistances she provided during the war.”

“I don’t doubt her bravery or tenacity,” Jack said, “but, perhaps she’s done enough in her day and should be left in peace?”

“She doesn’t know the meaning of the word. Besides, I think she would prefer this to my unexplained absence,” Phryne said. “I believe she will want to help, but ultimately, the decision will be hers.”

Jack nodded, finally conceding the point to Phryne, before turning to Kabui. If Birdie agreed to be Phryne and Jack’s spy in Melbourne, the plan’s success would require the Tribal Chief’s cooperation as well.

“And, what of you, my friend?” Jack asked. “After all you have already done for us, do we ask too much? You have no stake in this fight. If you’d rather not be involved, we will understand, and find another way."

“Your fight is mine,” Kabui said. “I am only sorry that this will take you both away from me. I have enjoyed your company very much.”

“I’m happy to hear that, because we may need to trespass on your hospitality again in the future,” Phryne said.

“You are welcome here at any time.”

“Thank you. We are forever in your debt,” Phryne said, “but, if I may ask one last favor, I’d like you to hang on to this for me.”

Kabui took the small, golden gun from her hand. “You may need protection wherever you are going,” he said, “are you sure you wish to part with this?”

“No,” she said, “it’s like parting with an old friend. But it’s become something of a trademark for me and will make me too identifiable. It’s best I leave it behind.”

They left before the next dawn and not even the Chief knew their next destination.

 

 **The letter Phryne** left for Birdie contained a truthful explanation of her trip to, and subsequent flight from, Papua New Guinea. It also spelled out the details of the scheme she and Jack had concocted to thwart their enemies. If Birdie decided to help, she was to get word to Phryne by the same method they planned to employ for their scheme.

Within a fortnight Phryne spotted Birdie’s answer. It appeared at the end of a new article about Phryne’s disappearance.

 

> _A search has discovered Miss Fisher’s damaged airplane in a remote area of Papua New Guinea but there is, as yet, no sign of the aviatrix herself. Miss Birdie Birnside, of Melbourne, Australia, recently traveled to the island in search of her dear friend and it was she, along with guides from a native tribe, that came upon the wreckage._
> 
> _“If anyone could survive a plane crash in the jungle, it’s Phryne Fisher,” said Miss Birnside, “and I, along with her other friends in this region, will work together for as long as it takes to bring her home.”_

“She’s on board, Jack,” Phryne said, showing him the article. “Time to get to work.”

 

 **A month later** , the first of the planted stories—an infidelity scandal involving a successful Melbourne businessman and supposed pillar of the community—appeared in the Melbourne press.

Every month or two after, a new story would appear.

As the dominos fell, Phryne and Jack would determine the next target and send the desired gossip to Kabui, always moving to a new location as they did so. Kabui would then send the information on to Birdie under the guise of an update on the search for Phryne. Birdie, in turn, would leak the stories to the press.

The gossipy tales often took on a life of their own and had the desired affect of weakening links in the chain of corruption, but it was slow going.

Whenever they dared, they moved away from social scandals and pointed reporters in the direction of white collar criminal activity, such as a prominent banker’s years long embezzlement scheme.

 

 **On the search** front, Kabui worked as closely with the officials looking for Phryne as possible in order to steer them in the wrong direction. As the months dragged on he planted false evidence that took the government searchers in circles.

After nearly a year, the negative press campaign was taking its toll and Jack and Phryne decided the time had come to put the main target in their scopes. Within six months the man would face an election campaign and the right scandal could undermine his candidacy. If he lost his position in government his influence in other areas would quickly wane and the threat he posed would effectively be neutralized.

In fact, once he was out of office, and away from the protections his position provided, there was a chance criminal prosecution might follow.

They prepared the first of their salacious stories—one shedding light on the man’s questionable relationship with a well-known bookie—and planned to post it in the morning.

“I think it’s time I pull the pin, Jack,” Phryne said that night, over cocktails on the lanai.

“Are you sure?” He asked. “The current plan seems to be working well enough. I think they’ve forgotten all about us.”

“As long as I’m listed as missing there will always be doubt. If we’re going after him I want as much protection as possible. Now, more than ever, our role as puppeteers must remain hidden,” she said. “Not just for our sake, but for Kabui and Birdie as well.”

“I agree, but it’s a big step. There may be no going back from this, Phryne. Birdie won’t be able to hold off the probate courts any longer once it’s official,” Jack said.

“I know that.”

“You could lose everything.”

“Not everything,” she said, smiling at him fondly. “And my estate may very well remain tied up for awhile yet. I’ve left the bulk of it to my half-sister and, as you know, she’s never responded to a single one of my attempts to contact her. With any luck this will be over before they’re even able to locate her.”

“I have a feeling this is one notice she may not ignore. It’s not everyday someone hands you that type of inheritance.”

“Well, then, so be it. She’s welcome to it all, Jack. It’s the least she’s owed after the neglect she suffered.”

“That was not your doing,” he argued.

“Perhaps not, but none of this matters.” She waved his concerns away. “I’ve enjoyed the trappings of my life but I’ve never needed them. All I need is right here with me,” she said, taking his hand.

In the end he conceded that the decision was hers to make and the new instructions were added to the correspondence before it was sent on its way to Chief Kabui.

Shortly thereafter, her trademark golden gun was discovered in the aftermath of a landslide not far from where her plane had gone down. It was determined that Phryne had likely survived the crash but had wandered, perhaps disoriented, in the wilderness and succumbed to the elements.

After a year of fruitlessness, the official hunt in Papua New Guinea was called off.

Meanwhile, in Melbourne, the negative press campaign continued.

The aim had been to destroy the re-election chances of their biggest foe and hope that, once out of office, he would no longer be a threat. As it turned out, they didn’t have to wait for the election.

Not surprisingly the man had his fair share of enemies, both political and personal, and once the first cut had been made, the sharks circled.

Three months after the first news item had appeared in the paper, House Representative for the Melbourne electorate, Barrett McFarland, became the subject of an investigation into the abuse of power.

A tenacious reporter had uncovered evidence to suggest McFarland had been using his influence to push legislation favorable to dozens of shadow companies that were merely fronts for business he, his close friends, and political donors to his campaigns owned. Calls for a thorough investigation and his removal from office soon began.

McFarland vowed to fight on, claiming he was the victim of a vendetta, but he was fast becoming political poison. Even those that had done his bidding, and turned a blind eye to his crimes for years, deserted him in order to save themselves, and Phryne and Jack finally felt their fortunes changing.

It wasn’t that they’d been suffering to this point, in fact, for the most part that’d been having a wonderful time. Wonderful, but cautious. They’d taken on aliases soon after leaving Papua New Guinea and, for awhile, Phryne had even dyed her hair blond.

Rather than risk leaving a trail by accessing Jack’s bank accounts, they’d lived off the money Phryne had withdrawn before leaving Melbourne and took odd jobs in exchange for lodging at various island resorts.

Phryne was an excellent hostess and Jack proved a popular bartender. Most places were sorry to lose them when they moved on.

They’d been to some truly remarkable, far flung places, and had even spent a few months on a Egyptian archeological dig—long a dream of Jack’s.

Now that things were looking favorable, and they were fairly sure that there was no longer anyone looking for them, Jack came briefly out of hiding to make an appearance at a bank Switzerland. After that, Archie and Fern Jones moved up in the world.

 

 **“Come in** ,” Phryne called at the knock. The front door swung open and a young man backed though it, pulling a rolling tray table with him.

“Set it right here. Thank you, Benjamin. That smells delicious,” Phryne said. They’d been at this latest resort long enough to know most of the staff by name.

“My pleasure, Mrs. Jones. Is there anything else you need this morning?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, could you let Mr. Jones know our tea has arrived?”

“He’s gone for his morning swim, I assume? I’ll find him on the beach and send him to you.”

“No need!” Jack called, entering the bungalow through the beach side entrance.

“Perfect timing, Archie!” Phryne said. “I was afraid your eggs would grow cold.”

“That would have been my problem then, wouldn’t it,” Jack said, smiling fondly. “My Fern worries too much. I’m sure you have better things to do than chase me down each morning!”

He winked at the young man, plucked several coins from the dresser and pressed them into the attendant’s palm.

Jack wrapped a towel around his waist, pulled a shirt over his head and grabbed a piece of toast before dropping casually into the chair across from Phryne.

She marveled at him. He was really taking this island living to heart. He was relaxed and happy and as handsome as ever. Looking at him, no one would think him a man going on seventy.

“Did he bring the paper?” Jack asked.

“It’s here,” Phryne said, taking it from her lap. “I was waiting for you. I’m not entirely sure I want to know.”

He reached for it but kept his eyes on her, nodding in understanding. “It does feel like the end of something, doesn’t it?”

“It doesn’t have to be,” she said. “There’s no reason we can’t go on as we have been, regardless of the verdict.”

“You mean we stay Fern and Archie forever? And you let your friends go on thinking you're dead?” He said, incredulously.

“I like Archie and Fern,” she pouted.

“It has been remarkable, hasn’t it? Just the two of us, with no distractions.” He set the paper aside and reached for her, pulling her onto his lap, his arms circling her waist.

“No distractions but the pesky task of taking down a criminal conglomerate,” she said. She ran her hands through his hair, still damp from his swim. He smelled of sun and the sea.

“Right. That,” he said, cocking his head as though it were only a minor annoyance.

The gesture made her heart clench. For a moment she considered all she might have missed out on had she not eventually found his message to her.

This time together had been like a whole other life. She was worried that plunging back into the real world, with its distractions and obligations, would mean an end to all of it. 

“We don’t have to lose anything. We can be Phryne and Jack again and still have all of this,” he said, reading her mind. “All of this and more. There’s nothing holding us permanently to Melbourne. We can come and go as we please but I would like to come out of hiding. Wouldn’t you?”

“Yes. You’re right, of course. I’m just being selfish in wanting to keep you all to myself a bit longer.”

“Do you think anyone else would have me at this point?” He asked, teasingly hopeful, his eyes lighting up at the thought.

She gave his chest a wack and then tightened her arms around his neck. “They’d have to fight me first,” she said, kissing him soundly. “Alright, Jack, let’s look at that paper and see if we can go home.”

 

**Epilogue**

 

“I have a niece, Jack.” Phryne was stunned and kept repeating this phrase over and over.

The phone call with Birdie was the first direct communication they’d had since the day Phryne had called to say she was flying to Papua New Guinea nearly eighteen months earlier. Her friend had been thrilled that Phryne was preparing to reveal to the world that news of her demise had been premature, but also apologetic about the inability to keep the probate courts at bay.

“A surprise relative, yes,” Jack said, “but no home, apparently.”

“That’s not true. You’re the one that’s homeless. I never added my latest purchase to my will, so the property in Fitzroy is still in my name.”

“In that case, Miss Fisher, I hope you’re amenable to taking in a lodger,” he said.

“We can negotiate the conditions along the way, Inspector,” she said, smacking him playfully on the arse. “Now, get a move on. We’ve got a boat to catch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Thank you for indulging me in my fix to Phryne’s disappearance from the MOD universe. I hope you enjoyed it!_
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> Further note: A bit of WWII history I learned during my research for this fic was the story of the Kokoda Trail campaign.
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> I decided that those battles for control of Port Moresby, by combined Australian and Papuan forces against the Japanese, were where MOD’s Birdie became acquainted with Tribal Chief Kabui through her intelligence work.


End file.
